


Esse Quam Videri

by ThePandalien



Series: The Merlin Project (HP) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePandalien/pseuds/ThePandalien
Summary: When the hat reveals Albus Potter's Slytherin streak he discovers that being the son of a famous wizard isn't all it's cracked up to be. Striving to step out of his father's shadow, but concerned about his status as a Slytherin, Al must come to terms with his situation and learn that substance trumps appearances and greatness isn't always good.Second work in "The Merlin Project (HP)" though it is not necessary to have read "Merlin of Camelot" first as the plot connections between these two stories won't show up until later works.Cross-posted from FFN.
Series: The Merlin Project (HP) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699753
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It took me awhile to finally get this one right and it went through one and a half previous versions which I just didn’t like so I threw them out and started over.  
> I’ve placed a few Easter-eggs so see if you can spot them.  
> As I said in the summary this is cross-posted from FFN.  
> Before we jump into the story, I’d like to thank (and apologize to) my beta GKWriter (from FFN). He was kind enough to review the first version of this story for me which was intended to replace HPCC because I just didn’t like the story. Unfortunately, the version I came up with was still too much like HPCC for my taste and a lot of it felt contrived and generally lacking in the plot and theme departments so I threw it out (hence the apology).  
> Lastly, I’d like your guys’ input on how this story compares with my previous ones as this is the first one where I consciously tried to apply the method John Truby outlined in “The Anatomy of Story” and I want to know how it turned out.  
> Now that my long-winded author’s note is done with, I won’t bother you until the end of the fic.  
> Enjoy!  
> -Pandalien

The train had already started to move out of the station and they still had yet to find a compartment. “Come on Rose. Why can’t we just pick a compartment?” Al complained as he followed his cousin down the corridor.

“Because we can’t pick just _any_ compartment,” his red-headed cousin replied without turning to face him. “We have to sit with _someone_ at the very least, but it should really be the _right_ someone. We don’t want to get in with the wrong sort.”

Al rolled his green eyes before suggesting that they just go find James and sit with him. Something which Rose vehemently protested. “He may be obnoxious sometimes but he’s not _bad_ Rose.”

“You were _just_ complaining about him teasing you,” Rose shot back.

“That’s just brother stuff,” Al defended. Now it was Rose’s turn to roll her eyes.

The two of them continued down the line of cars for a little way farther when Al came upon a compartment that was empty save for a thin platinum blond boy who was watching the countryside fly by the window with a great air of boredom. “What about this one, Rose?” Al asked, reaching for the door handle.

He had just begun to unlatch the sliding door when his cousin stopped him. “Not that one,” she whispered.

Without dropping his voice like Rose, Al began, “Why are—”

But he was interrupted by her hurried shushing. “That’s Scorpius Malfoy,” she explained.

That was all Al needed to hear. “Oh,” he replied dumbly as he let go of the door and it fully latched back into place with a faint click. Al followed his cousin away from the compartment, now seeing for the first time what she’d meant by being careful about who they got in with. If anyone qualified as being the “wrong sort” it was Scorpius Malfoy.

Sure, their parents were at least civil with each other now, on the rare occasions they actually met. But being so closely related to a former Death Eater, even one whose hands were relatively clean, had a certain stigma. In any case, the Malfoys had a reputation for being into the dark arts and all sorts of other nefarious things that Al was sure he wanted no part of.

They continued to search, but in the end, they wound up sitting with James anyway. This was partly due to their own indecision, but mostly due to James catching up with them and very nearly dragging them to meet his friends. James’s friends were a rather boisterous lot and their sense of humor was rather crasser than their mother would have liked and which Grandma Weasley would probably have hexed them for. Al realized that this was why James had never brought them over for any of their family gatherings.

“So, Al, you’re gonna be joining us in the lion’s den right?” a thick, sandy haired boy with brown eyes named Adrian asked jovially as he mussed Al’s hair.

“I don’t know…” the dark-skinned Jackson said with mock skepticism as Al straightened his hair back out. “He’s got that _Slytherin_ look about him.”

“Not a chance,” the blond-haired Zane interjected with a smirk. “He’s definitely a chip off the old block. He even _looks_ like Harry Potter. I bet he’ll be _just_ like him.”

Al caught his brother and cousin rolling their eyes at the exchange. They obviously thought it was silly but Al wasn’t so convinced.

He’d never admitted this to James because he knew that he’d never have heard the end of it, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a Gryffindor. If he got sorted into Gryffindor, then he’d just become another of the Potter-Weasley brood, forever in the shadow of his famous family. It didn’t help that whenever people looked at him, all they seemed to see was a miniature version of his father who was probably the most famous of them. His mind briefly wandered back to his first encounter with that god-awful reporter, Rita Skeeter. That had been when he’d first realized just how much interest the world took in his family. When she’d written her book about the DA, she hadn’t kept her commentary restricted to the adults. “…and the second Potter son, Albus Severus, named for two Hogwarts headmasters with murky pasts seems to be similarly murky. Those who’ve met him have described him as being more ‘dark and brooding’ than any child his age had any right to be. But of course, what can be expected when you live in the shadow of the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Hero of the Wizarding World? I think anyone would be desperate to find a way to stand out if they were in his shoes. We can only hope that this urge to stand out doesn’t manifest itself in leanings toward dark magic.”

Al pushed the memory from his mind. He had enough butterflies in his stomach thanks to the fast approaching start to his first year at Hogwarts. He didn’t need to stir up old ones to add to the new by revisiting old memories and their associated anxieties.

So instead, Al silently watched the countryside fly by the window while everyone else continued to talk and have fun. While he wasn’t sure he wanted Gryffindor, he was _definitely_ sure he didn’t want Slytherin. But that just left him with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and he wasn’t sure he was smart enough for Ravenclaw and, no offense to Teddy, Hufflepuff didn’t sound too appealing either.

The hours slipped by as Al pondered the sorting and before he knew it, the train had stopped at Hogsmeade station and he was making his way to the boats with the other first years.


	2. Chapter 2

The awe and wonder Al had experienced upon first seeing the castle from the lake was quickly overwhelmed by his anxieties over the sorting. This anxiety only continued to grow as the mass of first years slowly dwindled. Every time the hat shouted out a house name, Al’s heart beat faster. He still hadn’t really decided on his house. He hadn’t answered the question of just how badly he wanted to stand out from the rest of his family.

Rose had, of course, been sorted into Gryffindor and had quickly joined the rest of their family. Even now, Al could feel their expectant eyes on him, willing him to be sorted into their house.

Al’s thoughts were interrupted when the magically amplified voice of the diminutive Professor Flitwick called out, “Malfoy, Scorpius.”

There was movement behind Al and he turned slightly to see the blond boy from the train slowly pushing his way through the crowd to get to the front. There were hushed whispers from all the students. The first years he passed gave Malfoy especially dirty looks, as if they were sitting in judgement of some great wrong he’d committed. Scorpius, for his part, gave them equally judgmental looks in return. It was as if he thought that his fellow first years were beneath him. When Malfoy finally got to the stool and the hat was placed on his head, the intelligent headwear nearly announced his house then and there, only to stop with the rip that served as its mouth halfway open.

Everyone had expected a quick sorting for the Malfoy heir, and an instant Slytherin. Instead what they got was a hatstall. For six minutes, the hat deliberated on where to put Malfoy, but to Al, it looked more like the two were arguing about it rather than the hat simply pondering long and hard.

The final decision was just as surprising as the length of the wait. When the hat called out “Ravenclaw!” the entire hall was stunned into silence. It was only once Scorpius had nearly reached the Ravenclaw table that his housemates remembered that they were supposed to clap for him. Al decided that the applause sounded rather less enthusiastic than previously and was probably done more to be polite than anything. The expressions of the other Ravenclaws as Scorpius took his seat at the far end of the table only served to confirm Al’s suspicion.

“Potter, Albus.”

Al started at the sound of his name and his attention snapped to the front of the hall where Professor Flitwick and the hat were waiting expectantly. Al swallowed and made his way to the front before sitting on the stool and waiting for the hat’s decision.

“Very interesting,” the hat remarked, its voice echoing through Al’s skull. “You’re rather like your father, Albus Potter. Well suited to both Gryffiindor and Slytherin, though less certain of what you want than he was.”

_What house should I be in then?_ Al thought to the hat with some trepidation. He was at once eager to be done with it and fearful of the result.

The answer the hat gave him though, surprised him and only served to raise Al’s anxiety. “I think I’ll let _you_ decide that,” it replied. “If you choose Gryffindor, you’ll carry on your family’s tradition, your peers will see you as another member of a great family, carrying on their legacy. If you choose Slytherin, they’ll help you achieve greatness too, but it will be apart from your family.”

_But Slytherin—_

“Yes,” the hat interrupted, reading Al’s thoughts before he could speak them aloud. “Slytherin, even after nearly two decades, still has not shed the stigma it acquired during the war. And it’s not totally undeserved. Slytherins can teach you to be great, but they are ruthless, cold, and cunning as well.”

Al found himself faced with the decision he had secretly hoped the hat would make _for_ him. Should he do as was expected of him and become a Gryffindor and just another addition to the large brood of the great witches and wizards of the Potter-Weasley clan? Or should he break the mold? Should he seek greatness on his own in Slytherin, even if it meant people wouldn’t like him for it?

“Well, Potter?” the hat pressed. “What will it be?”

At the hat’s question, the thought sprang unbidden into Al’s mind and before he knew it the hat’s cry of “Slytherin!” had echoed off the stone walls of the Great Hall and through Al’s skull like a hammer ringing a gong.

The hat was soon lifted from Al’s head by Professor Flitwick’s levitation charm and Al could see his fellow students again. He was greeted by a variety of expressions ranging from Scorpius Malfoy’s mild intrigue to the wide-eyed disbelief of James’s friends. What struck Al the most, however, was the deafening silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Most of the paintings in the Slytherin common room had fallen asleep, or at least they pretended to be asleep. Professor Slughorn occasionally cracked his eyes when he thought Al wasn’t watching and he could have sworn he was getting dirty looks from Snape’s portrait. Merlin and Morgana had decided it was late enough that they didn’t really have to perform their legendary duel for anyone anymore and seemed to have borrowed a chess set from some other painting in the castle.

As he stared at the parchment in front of him, his quill resting in its inkpot, Al found himself unable to focus on composing his first message home and so his mind wandered to the various goings on in the common room. In an effort to force himself to concentrate, Al reached out and snatched up his quill. As he held it over the parchment, he found himself just as unable to write as he’d been before he’d raised his quill.

Al’s face scrunched in concentration, the eerie green glow from the fireplace illuminating his contorted features so that for a moment, he looked less like a lost eleven-year-old boy and more like a frightening revenant, out for revenge. His expression and attitude immediately changed to one of exasperated resignation when a rather large drop of ink fell from his quill and left an ugly black blot on his parchment.

“Oh, sod it!” he exclaimed, thrusting his quill back into the inkpot and throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Do your parents let you talk like that or is it just that you think you’re alone?”

Al started at the sudden voice, knocking his inkpot over in the process and staining his parchment and some of the table black.

“Sorry about that,” the voice said, nearer this time as its source approached Al from behind. Al turned in his seat to catch sight of a boy, perhaps about James’s age, with dirty blond hair and electric blue eyes. The boy drew his wand when he reached Al and waved it over the table. An instant later, like an old VHS on rewind, the ink flowed back into its container before the pot righted itself, leaving not so much as a speck of black on the cream-colored parchment.

“I’m Henry,” the other boy said holding out his hand. “Henry Bentley.”

Al glanced at the offered hand but didn’t shake it. “Hi,” Al replied sourly.

The older boy clearly didn’t appreciate Al’s response. The smile fell from his face and his expression grew serious. “Who put troll bogeys in your pumpkin juice?”

“The hat did,” Al replied. “When it made me a Slytherin.”

As soon as the words left Al’s mouth, Henry’s expression changed to one of realization before shifting to one of amusement.

“What?” Al demanded.

“Nothing, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

Henry’s face grew somewhat serious again. “Let’s just say that I know what it’s like. What you’re feeling.”

Al quirked an eyebrow at the interloper before returning his attention to his blank parchment. “I doubt that.”

“Why?” Henry challenged. “Because your last name is Potter? You think that because your parents are war heroes, you’re somehow different from the rest of us?

“Let me let you in on a ‘secret’, half the school is related to some hero or another from the Second War.”

“They’re not the son of Harry Potter,” Al countered.

“True,” Henry conceded. “But you’re not the only son of Harry Potter. And while James may be annoying sometimes, he hasn’t got any illusions about being special because he’s a Potter.”

Al didn’t have an answer for that.

“Look,” Henry pressed. “I get it, you don’t want to be in Slytherin. You’re afraid of what people will say. That they might treat you differently because they think being a Slytherin somehow makes you evil. You think you don’t belong in Slytherin—”

“I _don’t_ belong in Slytherin,” Al interrupted.

Without missing a beat, Henry replied, “That’s what I thought when I got sorted. I wanted to be in Ravenclaw like my dad and my older brother but when the hat called Slytherin, I decided that even going to Gryffindor with my older sister would have been better. Anything but Slytherin…

“But the hat put me here for a reason and I’ve accepted that. The hat looks deep into your mind. I think it sometimes knows us better than we know ourselves.

“If the hat put you in Slytherin, then you _belong_ in Slytherin.”

Al listened to the older Slytherin’s words intently. “If you say so,” Al said. “Why _did_ you come over though?” he asked, curious about why Henry was up so late. “Did you come to tell me about how great it is to have a Potter in Slytherin? About how I’ll be an asset to the house and show people that Slytherins aren’t all bad?”

Henry chuckled at that. “No,” he replied and despite what Al thought he knew about Slytherin pride, ambition, and ruthless cunning, he found himself believing Henry. “I came to talk because from the way you’ve been staring at that parchment of yours, you looked like you needed help. Whether you’re a credit to your house is up to you, not your name.”

Henry made a show of checking his wristwatch before standing up. “ _Merlin!_ It’s a lot later than I thought. I best be off to bed. You too for that matter.”

“I’ll be in in a bit,” Al replied. “Just got to finish this letter home.”

Henry nodded. “Just don’t stay up too late. G’night Potter.”

“Call me Al,” Al replied.

Henry smiled. “Okay. Night Al.”

Once the older Slytherin had disappeared into the dorms, Al set his quill on the parchment and began to write.


	4. Chapter 4

If Henry’s talk had made Al feel better about the sorting, the following first week of classes did the exact opposite. It wasn’t that the professors treated him poorly because of his house. In fact, the professors were quite fair and unprejudiced when dealing with their students, regardless of house affiliation. No, the problem was the students.

At first, it was just their expressions whenever they looked at Al. Some judged him for being a “snake”. Others had a hungry, almost predatory look in their eyes, like they were spiders waiting for an opportunity to move in for the kill.

They got their first during double potions with the Ravenclaws and it was all downhill from there. Professor McAllister had asked them to brew a cure for boils. While Al hadn’t been the first to finish, his work had turned out to be the most praised.

“I’ve never seen a finer first attempt at the boils cure than that,” Professor McAllister had remarked. “Well, except for Peter Bentley’s, but it’s hard for _anyone_ to hold a candle to his work. Unless it’s transfiguration. Twenty points to Slytherin.”

Al’s fellow Slytherins all congratulated him and for a while, he felt good. Al found that he quite liked the praise. It was only when he saw the way the Ravenclaws were looking at him that Al realized things were about to go bad. All through this, Scorpius had been sitting silently to the side, watching everything with the interest of someone who’d just discovered a new magical creature. Al wasn’t sure which he found more disconcerting.

It was lunch time when the attacks finally came. Al saw it coming as a group of Ravenclaws stood up from their table in unison and began making their way to the Slytherin table. Al tried to hurriedly finish his food but he was too slow. Al soon found himself surrounded by a group of boys and girls ranging from first to fourth year, all with blue and bronze ties.

“So, how’d you do it then?” the group’s leader, a fourth-year boy with straight, jet-black hair and dark eyes asked.

“Do what?” Al asked.

“You know what,” a first-year girl with similar features accused.

“My sister says you somehow got McAllister to start showing his house some favoritism,” the boy replied. “Of course, we all knew it was only a matter of time. You Slytherins are all the same. As slimy and devious as the snakes on your crest. I bet all it took was that your name was Potter. After all, it’d be politically incorrect to accuse her of showing a Potter favoritism, even if you _are_ a Slytherin.”

The boy said the last word with a vitriolic venom that made Al’s blood boil in spite of himself. “I didn’t ask Professor McAllister for any favors,” Al replied through gritted teeth.

“Besides, Jenkins, she wouldn’t show favoritism even if he had.” Everyone’s heads turned to face Al’s fellow first year Slytherin, Andrew Verres.

“No one asked you Verres,” one of the Ravenclaws shot back.

“You must have cheated then,” the dark-haired boy, Jenkins, replied.

“What! No, I didn’t—”

“How else do you explain it?” the Ravenclaw challenged. “My little sister is the best first year potioneer in our house and there’s _no way_ a slimy Slytherin, even one named Potter, can outdo Ravenclaw.”

Al gaped at them but it was Andrew who spoke again this time. “Your argument is based on a false premise. It can’t be _impossible_ for a Slytherin to outperform—”

“Shut it Verres!” one of the first years shouted.

A third-year girl shook her head in disappointment. “How can you even stand to be in Slytherin, let alone defend one? You were raised by your dad and he’s a muggle.”

Andrew, who was usually abnormally measured, calm, and clinical for an eleven-year-old, showed a rare flash of temper at the remark. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

“I mean, even though your mum was a witch, to the rest of your housemates you’re as good as a mud—”

The girl hadn’t even had the chance to finish the word before Andrew had leapt up and nearly vaulted across the table to get to her. If Al hadn’t jumped in time, then both Andrew and the Ravenclaw girl would have been in the hospital wing.

Before Andrew could break free of Al’s grip, another Ravenclaw appeared next to the gathered group. This one was older with light blond hair and electric blue eyes… and a head boy badge on his chest.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked. The head boy’s authoritative tone caused them all to shrink back somewhat, though the Ravenclaws less so than Al and Andrew, who slumped back in his seat immediately.

“Not at all,” Jenkins replied. “Just a little disagreement is all, right Verres, _Potter_.” The fourth year said Al’s name like it was a threat, daring him to say otherwise to the head boy. “In fact,” he continued, “we were just leaving.”

A terse “Good,” was the head boy’s only reply. His steely gaze followed the band of Ravenclaws until they had returned to their table. When he turned back to face Andrew and Al, Al thought there was something familiar about the head boy but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“A word of advice,” he began. “Don’t let someone else’s words, no matter how hurtful, goad you into violence. Sticks and stones, remember?”

Al knew that this was intended for him as much as for Andrew so he nodded his acknowledgement alongside his housemate. Once they had, the head boy’s expression softened and as soon as Al saw the friendly smile break out on his face, he realized why the head boy seemed familiar. “And congratulations Albus, on acing your first potions class. Professor McAllister says you did almost as well as me which is something.”


	5. Chapter 5

While the intervention of the head boy, Peter Bentley, may have averted a physical conflict, that didn’t stop people from talking and even the head boy couldn’t put the brakes on the rumor mill, no matter how false or blown out or proportion the stories became. By dinner that night, the story had changed from a bunch of Ravenclaws levelling false accusations and antagonizing the Slytherins to a few students confronting Al on his academic dishonesty and being rescued from Slytherin hexes by the head boy. By the end of the week it was a single Ravenclaw against Al’s cohort of Slytherin cronies. Peter didn’t even factor into the story by this point.

It wasn’t long after that that the rumors started to become entirely fabricated. As the rumors grew, Al’s reputation fell. Aside from the professors who already knew him, the faculty began to treat him with suspicion and occasionally distaste. Meanwhile, most of the student body was helping to perpetuate the rumors. There were some exceptions, people who stood by Al. The rest of the Slytherins, of course, closed ranks. Though some began to go out of their way to get back at the other students, activities which Al didn’t appreciated but which he couldn’t really stop. On the bright side, none of them were ever caught, owing to Slytherin cunning. Unfortunately, people still knew it was Slytherin pranking which, of course, reflected poorly on him.

The head boy also helped where he could and oddly enough, so did James. Al’s family was actually kind of split on the whole issue. The adults obviously hadn’t had a problem, at least not based on the reply to Al’s first letter home and all the subsequent letters. But his cousins were another story. Victoire, unsurprisingly, thought she was above all the fuss and if Al was being honest, she probably was. She only had a year left of school and like most of the seventh years, she was more focused on her NEWTs than anything else. Fred and Dom, it seemed, couldn’t decide whether to stick with their family, or to go with the crowd. James had gone as far as to openly defend Al and while he knew he should be appreciative, Al couldn’t help but remember how insecure his teasing had made him in the months leading up to the sorting. The fact that James had been right, even if unintentionally so, and Al had been sorted into Slytherin, only made the sting worse.

Of all the family currently attending Hogwarts, however, Al had hoped, and fully expected, support from Rose. Al would find himself sorely disappointed.

At first, Al hadn’t noticed it. He thought that things hadn’t changed between them since the sorting. But over the proceeding weeks, she began to seem somewhat more distant than before. Al also noticed that some of her new “friends” from Gryffindor were among those who helped spread the rumors. It all came to a head on Halloween. They’d just gotten out of their last class and were making their way to the main stairway.

“So, do you want to go to the library after the feast tonight to study for Binns’s exam?” he asked Rose.

Instead of answering though, his cousin gave a resigned sigh that caused the bottom to fall out of Al’s stomach. Something was coming, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“What is it?” Al prompted.

“Look, Al. You’re my cousin and my best friend and you know I love you… But I think we should stop being seen together.”

“What do you mean? Why?” Though Al was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

“People are _talking_ ,” Rose replied. “Do you know what my friends are saying?”

“I’m not sure I care what they’re saying,” Al replied angrily.

“They’re warning me that people might start thinking I’m as bad as those rumors make you out—”

“You _know_ they’re false, Rose,” Al protested.

“But the rest of the school doesn’t. And then there’s the Slytherin pranks.”

“I haven’t had anything to do with those. In fact, I’ve asked my housemates to _stop_.”

“You’re missing the point Al!” Rose exclaimed as she halted at the base of the main staircase. “it doesn’t matter to them what’s _true_. It’s all about perception and if we keep being seen as friendly, everyone’s going to start thinking I’ve got a Slytherin streak a mile wide. It’s bade enough they think _one_ of us is a filthy Slytherin but two?”

Al let the silence hang between them for a moment before he formulated his reply. “Okay,” he nodded. “Fine. We’ll just stop being friends then.”

“Al, that’s not—”

“No!” Al interrupted, doing his best to keep the tears from his eyes. “Don’t say that’s not what you meant. You’re afraid of what some random, no good kids are going to think of you because you’re my friend and my cousin and I’m a _Slytherin_. Admit it Rose, you’re _ashamed_ of me. and you can’t be friends with people who you’re ashamed of, even if it is for stupid reasons.”

Al spun on his heal to return to the dungeons. As he did so, he caught sight of Scorpius Malfoy, standing alone at the top of the stairs to the upper floors. For a moment, they shared a hard stare and Al knew that he’d seen the whole thing. Then, before continuing on his way, Al turned and spat over his shoulder, “So much for Gryffindor courage.”


	6. Chapter 6

Al woke up before his alarm the next morning with serious hunger pains. He hadn’t felt like attending the Halloween feast after his fight with Rose and now his body was getting back at him for skipping dinner. He glanced out the dorm window and into the murky lake. In the early morning darkness, it looked blacker and more foreboding than ever. Deciding that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, Al pulled his clothes on to get ready for the day. Before he left with his wand and his books, he made sure to reset his alarm clock so it wouldn’t wake his roommates.

Al’s first stop, after leaving the Slytherin dorms, was the kitchens. He knew that breakfast wouldn’t be ready yet, given how early it was, but he hoped the house elves might be willing to whip something up for him. As it would happen, they were all too happy to oblige.

When Al had finished eating, the sun had barely begun to peak over the horizon. So, with a full stomach and a bag full of study material, he strolled out onto the grounds so he could actually enjoy the sunrise for once. Al sat down under an old birch tree and withdrew his charms textbook from his bag. It had soon become quite apparent to Al that any class that involved a wand was going to be a struggle for him. It wasn’t so much that he was bad at magic, just inconsistent. So, in order to keep up, he’d taken to practicing outside of class. Al was midway through the motions for the softening charm when a voice interrupted him.

“Hey Al, is that you?”

Al looked up to see his brother making his way down from the castle, his broom slung over his shoulder. James must have recognized him because even though Al didn’t answer, he changed course and made his way over to the tree under which Al was seated. “What’re you doing out here so early?” James asked when he’d reached Al.

“Practicing,” Al replied. “You?” Al gestured to James’s broom.

“Same actually,” James replied as he shifted his broom’s weight on his shoulder. “But it’s quidditch instead of…” James paused as he cocked his head and squinted at the book in Al’s lap. “Charms,” he finished. “Wood’s been driving us pretty hard in the run up to the first match of the season so we’ve been having early morning practices the past two weeks. She’s concerned we might lose the cup this year, don’t know why.”

An awkward silence followed where Al didn’t know how to respond and it seemed to him that his brother didn’t really know how to proceed. Of course, they may have both been avoiding the elephant in the room that was Al’s fight with Rose the previous night. Al had no doubt that James had heard about it by now.

When James opened his mouth again, Al had been expecting his brother to attempt some sort of reconciliation, to tell him that he should talk to their cousin again and try to sort things out. Instead he said, “Why don’t you come down to the pitch with me. Maybe learn a thing or two for when you try out next year.”

“Who say’s I’m trying out next year?” Al challenged.

James just smirked. “No one, I just have a hunch. Besides, what could it hurt, coming down to watch, even if you don’t join the team?”

“It could hurt my marks in charms,” Al replied flatly. “Practicing outside of class is the only way I can keep up.”

“So multitask,” James replied. “It’s not like you’ve got a whole lot of time left before classes start anyway.”

Al grumbled some as he thought his decision over. “Fine,” he said at last, before stowing his wand and stuffing his charms book back in his bag. Despite his generally sour mood, he didn’t feel like being alone just now.

His brother was pleased, of course, and it showed on their way down to the pitch. “So, how’ve things been with you?” James asked cheerfully. “Feels like we haven’t talked in ages.”

“How do you think I am James?” Al asked hotly. “Over half the school thinks I’m the worst thing since troll bogeys and now our cousin is among them.”

Al saw James frown out of the corner of his eye. “I thought I told them to cut it out.”

Al scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James asked indignantly.

“You can’t suddenly change people’s behavior just because you demand it,” Al replied. “Even if you are Mr. James Popular Potter.”

“I suppose you’re right,” James admitted. After a few more moments of silence he added, “But I can at least get Rose to see sense.”

“What’s _he_ doing here?” The brothers jerked their gaze over to the figure of James’s friend, Adrian and his accusing finger pointed at Al.

“He’s just here to watch,” James replied, “maybe study a bit while he’s at it.”

“I get that he’s your brother James, but he’s also a no-good snake. He’s probably here to sabotage the team.”

“Sabotage the—Adrian, what in Merlin’s name are you talking about? I _asked_ him to come down here.”

Al was suddenly feeling very put on the spot, but more than that, he could feel his anger rising again. It was only two months ago that this friend of James’s had acted as if he was Al’s friend too and now he was just a “no-good snake”.

Al didn’t have an opportunity to voice his thoughts, however, as Adrian continued his attack. “Are you daft? He’s the enemy!”

“He’s my brother!”

“James! You’ve heard the things everyone else is saying about him—”

“I’ve heard them alright,” James interrupted. “And not a one of them is true.”

Adrian shook his head. “James, if you stick with the snakes, I know Wood’s going to kick you off the team.”

“Let her,” James challenged.

By this point, Al had had enough. “Don’t bother James,” he spat. “I’ll just leave like the skrewt asked.”

“No Al,” James replied firmly, halting Al in his tracks as he made to leave. “Sometimes you’ve got to stand your ground. If you have a problem with Al you have a problem with me, so go ahead, have Wood kick me off the team.”

James’s defiant challenge was answered, not by Adrian, but by the Gryffindor team captain, seventh year Olivia Wood, who came up behind Adrian from the pitch. “No one’s getting kicked off the team. Unless the two of _you_ can’t get your wands uncrossed. In which case, you’re _both_ off. And I don’t care that I’d be losing a strong chaser and my seeker.”

James and Adrian stared each other down for probably a minute more before Adrian huffed and began making his way back to the pitch, Olivia Wood following close behind and muttering something about children. A grin of victory split James’s face. “I told you it’d work.”

Al, however, wasn’t feeling very victorious. Instead of following his brother to the pitch, he stormed off in the direction of Hagrid’s hut, much to the confusion of James.

“Whoa! Where are you going Al?”

“Where does it look like?” Al shouted back angrily, not turning to face his brother. “I’m going to Hagrid’s.”

“But…” Al could hear his brother’s frustrated sigh, even from as far away as he was. “A ‘thank you’ wouldn’t go amiss you know Al.”

Al stopped at that and spun around in a fury. “Oh, I’m sorry James. Thank you. Thanks for standing up to big bad Adrian Toomes for me. Now I’m not just Albus Potter the no-good snake or Albus Potter the Slytherin Squib. I’m Albus Potter the wimp who needs to manipulate his big brother into sticking up for him because he can’t do it himself. Really helped me out there James.” With that, Al spun around and went back on his way to Hagrid’s, ignoring his brother’s desperate calls for him as he stormed along through the brisk November morning.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, der yeh want ter talk ‘bout it?” Hagrid asked gently as he handed Al a mug of piping hot tea.

Al shook his head slowly as he gratefully accepted the mug that, in the hands of anyone who wasn’t at least half giant, would more appropriately qualify as a small bowl. The two sat in silence for some time, each sipping their tea with the plate of rock cakes lying untouched on the table between them.

Hagrid didn’t press Al, which he was thankful for, but eventually, he couldn’t stay silent anymore. “Hagrid, what is it that everyone’s got against Slytherin?” he asked.

“What der yeh mean?”

“James’s ‘friend’, Adrian, said I was a no-good snake,” he replied. “But it’s not just him. Basically everyone thinks Slytherin’s evil or something and now that evil’s rubbed off on me. I thought all that stuff was supposed to have gone with the war.”

“Well, loads of You-Know-Who’s followers were Slytherins,” Hagrid replied apologetically. “Even his new recruits from the las’ war. Tha’s not easy ter ferget fer some.”

“But there were plenty of Slytherins who helped in the war,” Al argued. “Severus Snape spied for Dumbledore, Slughorn and a load of others fought at the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hagrid’s sad expression was all the answer Al needed.

“But people don’t care do they,” Al said bitterly. It wasn’t a question. “And they’re all too happy to paint us with the same brush even though we had nothing to do with it.”

“I know it’s not righ’,” Hagrid comforted. “They should be judgin’ yeh fer _who_ yeh are, not what house yer in.”

“It’s downright prejudicial,” Al agreed. “I mean, it’s not like I’m Scorpius Malfoy.”

“An’ jus’ what der yeh think yeh know abou’ Scorpius Malfoy?”

Hagrid’s question and the associated shift in tone caught Al by surprise and he quickly looked up from his oversized mug to see Hagrid’s disappointed and somewhat angry expression. “Everyone knows they’re all into dark magic and everything. His dad was a Death Eater.”

“Malfoy may have made some mistakes when he was young but he’s made up for them. Even yer dad sees tha’. And in any case wha’ Scorpius’s dad did when he were sixteen dunnah have anythin’ ter der with who the boy is. Yeh have even _less_ say in who yer family is than yeh der yer house an’ it’s not summat to be judgin’ someone fer.”

Al suddenly felt very ashamed. He hadn’t realized that he’d been doing to Scorpius _exactly_ what everyone else had been doing to him until Hagrid pointed it out. “I suppose I’ve been calling the cauldron black haven’t I,” Al said sheepishly. “But he just looks so judgmental all the time. Like he thinks he’s better than everyone just because he’s a Malfoy.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Hagrid replied, more softly this time. “I think tha’s jus’ how he copes.”

“Copes?”

“With his isolation. The other students don’ much like him either, ‘cause o’ his las’ name. Not what I recommended mind. Told him he should talk to someone ‘bout it instead. But he’s a stubborn ‘un.”

A strange feeling came over Al as he listened to Hagrid’s explanation and he realized that it must be sympathy. It had never occurred to him that Scorpius might be feeling just as alone as he was.

Hagrid didn’t let the silence stretch very long this time before he sent Al on his way back up to the castle. “Bes’ not miss yer firs’ lesson of the day.” So, Al hurried along and made it to class just in time for the bell. It was a shared lesson with the Ravenclaws, and this time, when he glanced over at Scorpius Malfoy across the aisle from him, he saw him in a completely different light. Malfoy, it seemed, noticed.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite the new light that had been shed on Scorpius Malfoy, Al found that he was still a barely tolerable git. When Al had first approached him after they were done with classes for the day, the first thing the blond boy had said was, “What do you want, Potter?” At Al’s look of confusion, he’d elaborated, “You’ve been giving me funny looks all day and now that we’re out of classes you approach me without any apparent reason. Conclusion? You want something.”

Al swallowed, having been moderately intimidated by the other boy’s little speech. “Look, Malf—Scorpius, I think we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“You don’t say,” Scorpius replied sarcastically. “And here I was, thinking that running off from our first introduction because of some prejudice your cousin believed was a prime example of a _great_ first impression.”

At first Al didn’t know what Scorpius was talking about. Then he remembered the train and how he’d almost walked into Scorpius’s compartment but had stopped at the last second on Rose’s advice. It seemed so long ago already even though it had only been a couple months. Looking back, Al decided that what he’d done was wrong and rather silly. “I didn’t think you’d noticed us,” Al replied guiltily.

“Yeah? Well, I did. Now for the last time Potter, what do you want?”

When Al didn’t answer immediately, Scorpius rolled his eyes and began to proceed up the stairs that would take him to Ravenclaw Tower. “I want to apologize,” Al said at last, halting the other boy in his tracks. “I shouldn’t have just assumed you were bad or the ‘wrong sort’ just because of who your dad is. It never occurred to me that you were as lonely as I’ve been. _Worse_ even, since your house probably doesn’t like you very much.”

“Hagrid told you, didn’t he?”

Al thought the question sounded more like an accusation but Al answered anyway. “Um, he might’ve mentioned it.”

“And let me guess,” Scorpius turned to face Al with a very bored expression. Too bored, Al thought. Almost like it was a mask the Ravenclaw was using to hide something else, some hurt he didn’t want Al to see. “He said you should talk to me, try to become my friend. Misery loves company after all.”

“Well, no actually,” Al replied honestly. “I was just going to—”

“Do that of your own initiative. Of course, the meddlesome oaf wouldn’t need to direct you, he knows you’d try anyway if he just mentioned something. After all, despite your bad ‘Slytherin’ reputation, you’re still a goodie two shoes Potter.” Even though he knew Scorpius was just trying to push Al away, Al couldn’t help but begin to think that at least some of his previous assessments of him were accurate.

“Scorpius, I know what you’re feeling and I know that we could both do with some _real_ friends.”

Scorpius threw his head back and barked a single mirthless laugh. “You don’t know what I’m going through Potter,” he shot back, his eyes gleaming with concealed fury. “You’re Albus bloody Potter. Sure, you’ve got the Slytherin Stigma but you’re not being treated worse than any other Slytherin. Me? Well, my grandparents were Death Eaters, my _dad_ was a Death Eater. My aunt was a Death Eater. Sure, dear grandma’s as dead as Auntie Belatrix, Azkaban left grandad simple, and dad’s ‘reformed’ but do people care? Does anyone care that _I_ had nothing to do with the war? Or that I didn’t exactly choose to be born a Malfoy?

“Your family are all war heroes. You’ve got a house that supports your selfish arse. What’ve I got? A legacy of evil and bad decisions and an entire school that wants to believe I fit right in with the rest of my family.

“So don’t pretend to know what I’m going through Potter.”

With that, Scorpius stormed back up the stairs. Al, meanwhile, decided that he was quite insane. Because while anyone else would have been content to let Scorpius Malfoy be, Al decided he was going to try and help him.


	9. Chapter 9

When Al sat next to Scorpius in potions the next day rather than with his usual partner, Andrew, he was greeted with an audible groan that drew even Professor McAllister’s attention. “Go away Potter,” he grumbled.

Al ignored the other boy’s sour mood. “I thought you could use a potions partner.”

Scorpius scoffed. “How generous of you, but in case you haven’t been paying attention for the past two months, I’ve been doing just fine without a partner.”

“You sure about that?” Al challenged. It had become common knowledge that Scorpius, while certainly competent at potions, still struggled to successfully complete the more time sensitive ones with only himself working on them. Scorpius didn’t attempt to counter Al’s challenge, probably because today they happened to have been assigned one of these time sensitive potions to complete. Instead he asked, “What about Verres?”

Al looked over to where Andrew Verres sat with his new partner. “He’ll be fine for today,” Al replied. “I already talked it over with him and Clinton’s in the hospital wing because he got hexed pretty bad in an ill-advised duel with one of your housemates. Which leaves Alia without her partner so it all works out.”

“If that’s the case then why didn’t _she_ partner with me instead of _you_?”

“Because she doesn’t like you. In fact, as you pointed out when you exploded on me yesterday—”

“I did _not_ explode,” Scorpius interrupted.

“Did too,” Al shot back. “But that’s not important. As I was saying, _no one_ likes you. It’s only me and Andrew who’ll even think about talking to you.”

“Then could you please switch places,” Scorpius groaned.

“You wouldn’t get along. At least not unsupervised. Unless you manage to get under his skin, which I think you might, he’s basically like a computer.”

“Computer?” Scorpius’s confused expression and tone of voice reminded Al that the Malfoys didn’t really do muggle things, unlike his grandad.

“Never mind,” Al replied. “Point is, you’re stuck with me for today.”

Scorpius grumbled once more before relenting.

Before they set to work though, Al thought he heard his new partner mutter, “Something tells me I’ll be stuck with you for longer.” Al smirked to himself. Scorpius didn’t know just how right he was.

Al would soon discover just how badly isolated Scorpius had been. It only took a week for the other boy to warm up to Al enough to join him and Andrew on their regular study sessions and even though their interactions appeared to most outsiders to remain somewhat hostile, Al could tell that between all the snark, Scorpius was quite grateful for the company and (did Al dare think it?) budding friendship. It was during one of their study sessions that Scorpius bestowed a nugget of wisdom upon Al that, in hindsight, had been so obvious that Al was surprised he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

As Al, Scorpius, and Andrew were walking into the library, their books in hand, Al caught the whispers of his peers. Some of it was tough to make out but, given it had started up as soon as they’d entered, Al had a pretty good guess that it was the usual. No-good snakes, Kool-Aid Verres, and evil Malfoy were just a few of the slurs that Al had come across before and it made his blood boil.

If they could have made it to their usual haunt, Al may have been able to cool off, but they were waylaid by Karl Jenkins. “Well, if it isn’t Asp, Malfoy the Magic Nazi, and Kool-Aid Verres. You know, one of the portraits mentioned you three were chums now but I had to see it with my own eyes. It looks like the little Malfoy’s a chip off the old block after all. So much for your charade.”

“Shut up Jenkins,” Al growled through gritted teeth.

“What’s this?” the older boy taunted. “Protecting you new boyfriend Potter?”

“I said. Shut. Up.”

As Al ground his demand out a second time, Andrew sighed and moved away clearly expecting the confrontation to turn physical and deciding to give Al and Karl plenty of space. While Andrew was backing away, however, others were coming in closer in anticipation of the fight. First year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were the most represented in the gathering audience.

“Or what Potter?” Karl challenged. “You’ll hex me? O wait, you can’t. but maybe that’s what you’ve picked up Malfoy for.”

Al had reached his breaking point. Although Karl was older and better with a wand than Al, Al was faster on the draw. His dad and Uncle Ron had always said he had seeker’s reflexes. Al knew he would have had Karl dead to rights if not for two things. First, and most obviously, was his struggle with any magic that needed a wand. Second, was the unexpected interruption from the grey eyed blond standing next to him.

“It could be worse Karl,” Scorpius said calmly as if they were discussing quidditch rather than pairing up for an ill-advised, impromptu duel. “He _could_ feel the need to verbally belittle children three years his junior with pointless nonsense.”

Karl’s shit-eating grin fell from his face in an instant and he suddenly became rather aware of their audience. “What?” he said in an almost panicked tone. “That’s not—”

“I often wonder what kind of person would do that,” Scorpius continued. “He must be very insecure indeed.”

“I’m not—” Karl sputtered. “Don’t go spreading your Death Eater lies Malfoy!”

“Interesting you should mention Death Eaters, Karl,” Scorpius replied in the same calm, faux-clinical manner as before. “Did you know there was a psychological study conducted on Azkaban inmates who’d been Death Eaters and it found that eighty percent of them suffered from insecurities related to their self-esteem. So I’d say your odds of joining a magical fascist cult are _at least_ as good as mine.”

There was a collective gasp from the gathered audience at that and even the normally impassive Andrew reacted, his eyes growing wide as galleons as he gave a low whistle. Karl, meanwhile, could only sputter. Al was speechless himself.

“I believe that’s what your friends in the chess club would call a check-mate,” Scorpius added as he grabbed a hold of Al’s wrist and began to pull him along, signaling that they were don here. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we _really_ must be studying.”

When they’d finally made it to their secluded corner of the library Al asked, “What was that back there?”

“ _That_ was damage control Potter,” Scorpius replied testily as he opened his history of magic book to the section on magic in the Roman Empire.

“It was bloody brilliant,” Andrew replied, earning him looks of surprise from both Al and Scorpius. “What?” he asked as he too flipped open his text.

“High praise coming from you,” Scorpius replied in a way that to outsiders would appear to be sarcastic but to the three of them was anything but.

It was then that Al’s mind actually registered what Scorpius had said. “Hang on a minute. Damage control?”

“Yes, Potter. Damage control. You nearly hexed a fourth year in front of an audience of probably twenty students. Assuming you could manage to hit him first, word would have eventually gotten ‘round to the professors and then we probably would have _all_ been in detention.” Scorpius glanced over to Andrew and added, “Except Verres, that is. Since he had the sense to back off.”

“But it was provoked!” Al protested.

“Do you think the professors give a troll’s rear end about that?” Scorpius challenged. “You may be a Slytherin, Potter, but I swear to Merlin, you can be thick as the rest of your Gryffindor family sometimes.”

“They were insulting us! Should I have just let Karl spout off his stupid nonsense and done nothing? Just walked on?”

“Yes,” Scorpius replied flatly.

“But—”

“Why do you care so much what they think of us?” Scorpius asked.

“Because—” Al stopped himself when he realized he didn’t really have an answer.

“I already know that I’m better than them Potter, and not because of my family name or my pureblood pedigree. Most of their lot are shallow people who follow the crowd like sheep and care more about appearances than anything else.

“Why _you_ don’t know that yet is beyond me.”

“I don’t care what they think of me, usually,” Andrew cut in. “But I don’t think I’m better than them either.”

“That’s because Potter’s right. Most of the time you’re like one of those muggle puters and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t even _occur_ to them to consider the opinion of anyone or anything else,” Scorpius replied.

“It’s _com_ puter,” Al corrected.

“Whatever,” Scorpius dismissed. “Now let’s get to studying. We have an essay on the Peverells we need to write.”

“Hold on,” Al interjected. “Did you just say I was _better_ than them?”

Scorpius suddenly looked very uncomfortable, like he was trying to swallow one of Hagrid’s awful rock cakes. Eventually he answered. “I’ll admit Potter, I misjudged you earlier. I thought you were one of the sheeple. But yes… you’re better.”

Al suddenly felt very warm inside. At first, he couldn’t figure out why, but it eventually occurred to him that this was probably the closest thing to an admission of friendship that Scorpius was capable of. “Thanks, Scorp,” Al returned with a soft smirk.

“Don’t _ever_ call me that,” Scorpius shot back.

“Why not?” Al asked.

“Because if you do, I’ll start calling you Asp,” Scorpius threatened.

While the name had originally been crafted as an insult, a mark of how evil Al had become by joining Slytherin, Al decided that he wouldn’t really mind it if Scorpius called him that. So he replied, “Whatever you say Scorp.”

And thus began Al’s new approach to dealing with his bullies. He knew he was better than them and he decided it would only be a matter of time before they knew it too. Until then, he’d let their words roll off him like water off a duck’s back.


	10. Chapter 10

It was early Monday morning, the last week of November when Al decided to brave the Ravenclaw table. He needed Scorpius’s help and he couldn’t wait until class started to ask for it. Thankfully, Scorpius was by himself at one end of the table and Karl was nowhere in sight.

“Morning Scorp,” Al greeted quickly as he sat across from the blond boy.

“Good morning Asp,” Scorpius returned as he chewed on a piece of toast.

“So, we’re friends right?”

Scorpius looked up from his breakfast at the question. “You want something,” Scorpius stated matter of factly.

“I _need_ help Scorp,” Al replied desperately. “Karl’s been looking at me like I fed his cat to the giant squid ever since you showed him up in the library.”

“I know,” Scorpius replied calmly. “He’s been giving me the same looks.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Al asked incredulously, unable to believe just how calm the other boy was being just now.

Scorpius rolled his eyes and sighed. “Remember what I said about not caring what they think about you?”

“I don’t give a troll’s ass what he thinks.”

“Don’t let your mother hear you talking like that,” Scorpius admonished.

Al ignored the interruption and pressed on. “I’m worried about what he’s going to _do_. He’s been humiliated. How long before he decides to hex us?”

Scorpius’s eyes widened as he realized, apparently for the first time, just what he’d gotten them into. “Oh.”

“’Oh’ is right Scorp,” Al replied. “We’re talking about a fourth year here. You might have a chance, however small, but me?”

“You couldn’t get a hex off to save your skin,” Scorpius replied. “Doesn’t matter how fast on the draw you are.”

“Exactly. So, you can see why I need help.”

Scorpius sat silently for a moment, the fingers of one hand gently drumming on the hard wood of the table, the other holding a piece of half-eaten toast. Finally, he spoke. “Okay, I have an idea. Well, a few ideas.”

“Yes?” Al asked hopefully.

“First, you and I need to stick together as much as possible.”

Al found himself gaping in surprise, and a little bit of joy. “You’d really do that for me?” he asked.

“Yes of course I—Wait, do what?”

“ _Protect_ me, I thought—”

Al was cut off by the blond boy’s loud guffaw. He would have found it quite irritating were it not for the fact that this was the first genuine, mirthful laugh he’d heard from Scorpius and thus Al was quite surprised rather than annoyed.

“No no, you’ve got it wrong,” Scorpius said once he’d calmed down. “Honestly, I’m probably in more danger from Karl than you since I actually share a house with him. No, if anything it’s _you_ who’ll be watching _my_ back.”

The best Al could do for a moment was to blink uncomprehendingly at Scorpius. “Scorp, we just established that I basically _can’t_ use a wand. Not can’t as in ‘not allowed’ but can’t as in ‘ _physically incapable_ ’.”

“Which brings us to my second idea.”

“Which is?” Al asked warily.

“We get your wand problem fixed.”

“How?” Al asked flatly.

“Do you know Professor Strange?”

Al shook his head in reply.

“He’s the Advanced Magical Theory teacher,” Scorpius explained. “He used to be an unspeakable and he’s been all over the world studying the magic of different cultures. I bet he can figure out something to help you.”

“Why would he though?” Al asked. “Most of the teachers seem to think I’m some sort of ‘bad egg’ either because I’m in Slytherin or because of Karl’s rumor mill. Usually both.”

“Strange doesn’t believe them.”

Al wished he could be as sure as Scorpius sounded. “How do you know?”

“Because he knows what it’s like. He’s been in our shoes and it was during a time when things were much worse.”

“What do you mean?” Al asked.

“Both his parents were Death Eaters and he started at Hogwarts as soon as it was rebuilt enough to hold actual classes.” Scorpius replied. “He knows what it’s like to be _hated_ not just bullied but _hated_ , for something he couldn’t control. He’ll help us.”

Thus, it was based on that assurance that Al found himself standing next to Scorpius in front of Professor Strange’s office rather than eating dinner in the Great Hall with Andrew, who had somehow managed to avoid the wrath of Karl and his other housemates. After a moment of standing silently in front of the closed door Scorpius said, “Well, I suppose we better knock.”

Al nodded stiffly and, tamping down his nerves, raised his fist to rap on the wood. A moment later they heard a muffled “Come in” from the other side.

Al and Scorpius pushed the door open to reveal the young, dark-haired professor whose attention was currently focused on a rather large and dusty tome. Al decided that the professor’s name suited him very well for he was quite strange indeed. He was tall and thin with spindly limbs and needle-like fingers. His complexion was quite fair, bordering on pale, creating a stark contrast with his black curls which sat like a rat’s nest on his head. His facial features were even more pointed than Scorpius’s and his posture was such that his knife-like nose was literally buried in the book. But strangest of all was his attire. It wasn’t that he dressed flamboyantly like professor Trelawney did. Indeed, his clothes were rather muted in their colors which were very well coordinated between the garments. What was strange about Strange’s attire was the distinct lack of robes. Professor Strange dressed very much like a muggle, albeit a rather formally dressed one. It occurred to Al that his choice of waistcoat, trousers, and a simple white dress shirt with the top button undone may have been some kind of rebellion against his Death Eater parents, one that he just never grew out of.

When Al and Scorpius stepped into the office and closed the door behind them, Professor Strange looked up from his book, cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “You aren’t my students,” he remarked confusedly. Then he narrowed his eyes at the two of them. “You’re Malfoy’s boy, aren’t you?” he remarked. “And you’re the other Potter, the not-red head.”

Al gulped as his nerves returned. Given how Strange had just addressed them, he was getting worried that his original instincts had been correct. They weren’t going to find any help here. It was because of his increasingly negative thoughts, spiraling out of control as his heart sped up that Al had to do a double-take at the next sentence that issued forth from the professor’s mouth. “So how can I help you boys?” he asked cheerily, his back snapping straight as a broomstick in an instant where before it had been as curved as the u-bend of a toilet.

“Well, you see Professor—” Al began tentatively, not really sure how to approach the subject.

“Potter here is rubbish with a wand and he needs to not be so we can fend off the inevitable attack by a fourth year who has it out for us,” Scorpius cut in, cutting right to the chase.

Al felt his cheeks color in embarrassment.

“I see,” Professor Strange replied, his expression now contemplative. “And _why_ exactly are you going to just wait for this student to attack you? Why not have one of the faculty talk to him if you believe you’re being threatened?”

Al reflexively face-palmed. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“As I’ve told you before Potter, you may be in Slytherin but you’re still as thick as a Gryffindor. Your first thought is to fight. Which in this case is the correct thought, because a talking to a professor won’t deter Karl in the slightest.”

“Karl Jenkins?” Professor Strange asked. When both Al and Scorpius nodded Strange replied, “Yes, I see your point. If anything, it will probably aggravate him more. No, your best bet is to draw him out, let him attack you, and then put up such a stellar defense that he never bothers you again.”

“What?” Al exclaimed incredulously, talking over Scorpius’s statement of “My thoughts exactly.”

The professor then added, “The two of you didn’t hear that from me by the way.”

“Of course, Professor,” Scorpius replied. “Our lips are sealed.”

Once again, Al felt the need to protest. “What? No, they aren’t!”

“Yes, they are Potter,” Scorpius shot back. “Unless you want Professor Strange to obliviate rather than help us, in which case good luck with Karl when he shows up to hex you.”

“What? He can’t obliviate us,” Al argued. Scorpius only raised his eyebrows. “It’s against the rules. He’d be sacked…” Al turned to face the professor whose expression perfectly mirrored Scorpius’s. “But he… Oh Merlin. Fine, I won’t say a thing.”

“Splendid!” the professor exclaimed. “Now, about your wand troubles…”

“I swear Malfoy, sometimes you’re more Slytherin than Ravenclaw,” Al muttered under his breath.

“I know,” Scorpius replied easily. “The hat took quite some convincing.”

Al was about to ask what Scorpius meant by that but he was interrupted by Professor Strange. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Al replied quickly. “So, my wand. I don’t know what it is, but for some reason I can’t get it to work properly.”

“At all?” the professor asked.

“Well, sometimes,” Al admitted. “Just not when I’m in class and _especially_ not when Professor MacMillan has us do dueling practice.”

“I see, and when you do get it to work, what are you doing? What else is going on? How do you feel? Have you noticed?”

Al had to pause a moment to process all the rapid-fire questions. Eventually, he answered a very patiently waiting Professor Strange. “I’m usually studying.”

“And how do you study? In a group? By yourself? In a quiet place? A noisy place?”

“I’m usually either by myself or with Scorpius or another friend, Andrew Verres, and we like it quiet.”

Professor Strange nodded at this as if some great puzzle was coming together. “And tell me, Albus, do you feel calm and at peace during these times?”

Al thought for a moment before answering. “Yes, I think so.”

“I see,” Professor Strange replied. “How much do you exercise?”

Al blinked dumbly at the question. “What’s that got to do with it?” Al asked.

“Quite a lot actually. That is, assuming my hypothesis is correct.”

“What do you mean?” Scorpius asked, clearly intrigued.

“Are you familiar with the concept of chi?” the professor asked.

Both boys shook their heads.

“It’s an East Asian concept. For the muggles, it’s mostly what they call pseudoscience. But for witches and wizards of the Orient, it’s as fundamental as Gamp’s Laws are to us here in the West.” Professor Strange moved around his desk to one of his many bookshelves as he explained. “ _More_ fundamental, come to think of it,” the professor continued as he pulled down a yellow leather-bound volume from his shelf. “Most westerners think of chi as unimportant, purely academic, or at worst, senseless drivel. But I had the opportunity to study it first hand when I went to China for one of my early research projects as a low-ranking unspeakable. I must say that the teachings were quite helpful and I still use them to this day.”

“So, what exactly _is_ chi?” Scorpius asked in what Al could tell was a subtle hint for the professor to get on with it.

“It’s a kind of vital force or universal force. It flows throughout the universe and connects all things. Some scholars theorize that it is magic itself. Now we all have a reservoir of chi within us. If we are not balanced and centered, it can impede the flow of this chi and its interaction with the chi of everything else.”

“So, you’re saying that Potter’s magically constipated,” Scorpius interrupted flatly.

The look of didactic enjoyment on the professor’s face was quickly replaced with one of mild annoyance. “For lack of a better phrase, yes.”

“So how do I rebalance my magic?” Al asked. “Take a magical laxative?”

“Only if you wish to evacuate your digestive system thoroughly and rapidly,” Professor Strange replied. “No, the way you rebalance your chi and help your energies and magic flow smoothly is through three things. And Mr. Malfoy, it might benefit you to do these as well.”

“What are these three things?” Scorpius asked skeptically.

“The first you’re already capable of because you do it while you’re studying. You must calm your mind and your emotions, even and _especially_ when you feel most stressed.”

“Easier said than done,” Al remarked.

“That’s why you must get in the habit of remaining calm and collected. Even western magical theories support the idea that you’ll be absolutely appalling with magic if your thoughts and feelings are disorganized all the time. So, whenever you find yourself confused or stressed, pause, take a deep breath, and clear your mind before returning to whatever it was you were doing.

“This leads me to the second thing which is regular breathing meditation. Set aside ten minutes of your day and do nothing but sit as shown here,” the professor pointed to a picture in the yellow book before resuming. “And breathe and clear your head.”

“How do I do that?” Al asked.

“You stop thinking,” Strange replied as if it was obvious.

“How am I supposed to stop thinking?” Al asked incredulously.

“I’m with Potter on this one,” Scorpius added skeptically.

“Come now, it’s easy. Every time you have a stray thought about say… your ferret or some essay that’s due for Binns, you just turn your thoughts away from them rather than going down the rabbit hole so to speak.”

Al decided he and Scorpius must have looked very skeptical indeed because a moment later the professor gave an exasperated sigh. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough,” he said. “The breathing part of the meditation will help you with that. If you find you can’t turn the other thoughts off, just start by thinking about breathing. Focus on the inhaling and exhaling. Trust me, the meditation will help you clear your mind and keep it clear as well as make calming yourself in stressful situations more habitual.”

“What’s the third thing?” Al asked.

“Exercise.”

Al was unable to suppress a groan which earned him a scolding from the professor. “You’re eleven years old young man. You shouldn’t be groaning about exercise as if you’re Horace bloody Slughorn.”

“But what does exercise have to do with it?” Al asked.

“If you are physically unhealthy, your chi will be similarly unhealthy and impeded in its flow which also means you need to make sure you eat a balanced diet,” Strange replied. “Now do you want to get better or not?”

“Fine,” Al acquiesced.

“Good, now your exercise will consist of a combination of qigong and calisthenics. I can start you off by teaching you the movements and techniques an hour a day starting tomorrow until you have it down. Once again Mr. Malfoy, I recommend you join us.”

Scorpius, it seemed, wasn’t all that willing to try this out either, probably because he didn’t see the need for him to participate as well, but he agreed all the same. “Excellent! Now go ahead and take this in case you want to read any more on the subject.” The professor held out the yellow book which Al accepted graciously, though he had no intention of actually reading it. He had enough to worry about as it was. Before the two of them left the office though, Al stopped to ask, “Professor, why are you helping us?”

Several expressions crossed the young professor’s face in rapid succession. First sadness, then intense interest and exhilaration, then validation, ending with a mysterious smile. “I have my reasons,” he answered cryptically. “I assume you know a little about what my own Hogwarts years were like just after the war.”

Al nodded.

“Then you can probably guess some of them.” Al could. In fact, he thought it was kind of obvious that the professor sympathized with their plight. But Al knew there were other reasons.

“But that’s not all…” Al replied.

“You’re right,” the professor answered. “But I think those reasons can wait. If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss dinner.”

Not wanting to drop the issue, but sensing that he’d been dismissed, Al turned and left, the yellow book clasped securely under his arm.


	11. Chapter 11

The training that Professor Strange had assigned them was difficult at the start and while Scorpius seemed to deal with it okay, Al frequently grew frustrated. Nonetheless, he stuck with it. It was almost the end of term when he finally began seeing results. In charms class, the week before Christmas, Al managed to cast the spongify charm on the first try. Of course, his block of cast iron was still fairly hard, but it had been softened enough that Flitwick had recognized him for it. “It’s still not quite the consistency I was hoping for, but it looks like all your studying outside class is finally paying off Mr. Potter,” the diminutive professor remarked cheerfully. “I think Slytherin deserves a point for the effort at least.”

After that, Al redoubled his efforts in mastering his chi. He took to reading Professor Strange’s yellow book which had remained untouched at the bottom of his trunk up to that point. Al began to improve faster after that as he gained a deeper understanding of the theories pertaining to chi and magic.

It was just as well that he had too because it was that Friday that Karl finally chose to strike. Classes had just gotten out and everyone was heading to dinner. Al and Scorpius walked through the halls discussing their plans for the break. “I’ll probably just be stuck at home with my parents,” Scorpius said slowly.

“That’s not so bad, is it?” Al asked.

“You _do_ remember who my father is, right?”

“I know,” Al replied. “But it’s not like he’s _all_ bad right? I mean, isn’t he reformed?”

Scorpius scoffed at that. “ _Of course_ he is,” he replied. “Reformed and so full of guilt that he can barely look at me. I don’t doubt that he loves me but he doesn’t think he deserves me. I’m sure it’ll be worse when I go home, now that he knows about what’s been going on at school and he knows it’s partly his fault.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Al remarked.

Scorpius sighed. “You’re probably right Potter,” he admitted. “Mum’s not too bad at least, but…” Scorpius’s expression grew strangely vulnerable and despondent as he trailed off and Al had to wonder what was going on.

“But?”

Scorpius hesitated for a bit before replying. “Never mind,” he said dismissively. “What about you? What are your Christmas plans?”

“It’ll be the usual gathering at the Burrow I expect,” Al replied.

“Your _whole_ family’s going to cram into that structurally unsound deathtrap your grandparents call a house?” Scorpius asked incredulously.

“Hey!” Al protested. “It’s not _that_ bad. And no, there won’t be enough room. We usually do enlarged tents to make up the space.”

“What about Rose?” Scorpius asked, walking right into the metaphorical elephant in the room.

Al frowned. “She’ll be there too of course,” he answered somewhat bitterly. “I reckon the adults will have a thing or two to say to her but I think I’ll stay out of it.”

“Or, you could try talking to her again,” Scorpius suggested.

“You saw the fight we had on Halloween,” Al returned. “You know how bad it was.”

“Oh, it was bad,” Scorpius conceded. “But that’s even more reason for you to try and fix things.”

“Why’ve _I_ got to do something?” Al asked feeling defensive. “ _She’s_ the one at fault. If she wants things to be fixed, then _she_ needs to be the one to come to _me_.”

“Fair enough.” Scorpius held up his hands placatingly as they rounded the corner. “Speaking of your cousin,” he added.

Al looked up to see Rose and James having an animated discussion. When Al’s eyes met his brother’s, James grabbed Rose by the shoulders and spun her around to face Al and Scorpius. James then pointed very emphatically in their direction and said something more to Rose.

Al sighed internally. James had said he’d talk to Rose and by the way he looked at their cousin, it looked like he had, several times. It just wasn’t sinking in. Al still felt both exasperated at his brother’s efforts and guilty that he’d spurned them. These days though, the guilt was heavily outweighing the exasperation, especially since the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match. Gryffindor had lost and lost badly. James had continued to defend Al to his teammates to the point that they couldn’t get along at all anymore and the captain had replaced everyone with reserve players at the eleventh hour just to keep the match from turning into a battlefield.

James pointed at them again and Rose gave a sigh before she started toward them. “Hold on,” Al said suddenly, grabbing Scorpius’s shoulder to halt him. The two of them were rooted as they watched Rose approach and for a moment, Al thought his cousin was actually going to come apologize. For a moment he thought James had gotten through to her. But then she just passed them without a word, and with her, the moment. Al found himself unable to contain a derisive scoff. He glanced over to James just in time to catch him face-palm in exasperation.

“Figures,” Al said. “Come on Scorp.”

Just as they were about to get back on their way though, they were stopped by the sound of Karl Jenkins’s voice. “Well, if it isn’t Malfoy and the Slytherin Squib.” Karl stood in their path.

Al had to admit that the name still got under his skin, but Scorpius’s advice and Professor Strange’s lessons were helping. Instead of rising to the bait, Al took a deep breath, cleared his head, and let it out before reminding himself that he was better than Karl. Everyone, even Karl, would see that eventually, but right now wasn’t the time. So, Al and Scorpius continued down the hall without so much as answering Karl.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Don’t ignore me you cowards!”

Still, Al and Scorpius continued forward, intending for the only acknowledgement of the fourth year’s presence to be their path around him. But Karl, it seemed, was so frustrated that he wouldn’t allow it. It took only an instant. As soon as Al saw the older boy reach for his wand, he whipped his own out and like water flowing through a clear stream, he fired off a disarming charm and Karl’s wand skittered across the floor. Later, Al would fully internalize what he’d just done, but in the heat of the moment, he just stowed his own wand and enjoyed the look of shock on Karl’s face as they walked past. He glanced at Rose, who’d stopped to witness the affair and was pleased that she seemed equally surprised.

Then several things happened at once. Karl scrambled for his wand and took aim at Al and Scorpius’s backs, only to get petrified by Rose. James meanwhile, had whipped his own wand out and was in the process of shouting, “Put your wand away you bleedin’ coward!” And just as everything was going down, the head boy rounded the corner to witness it all.

Al and Scorpius turned to see the aftermath as Peter Bentley let out a low whistle at the sight of Karl’s body frozen in its awkward position as it tottered and collapsed on the hard-stone floor. “Three points to Gryffindor for a good shot,” he said. Then he frowned, “And twenty points from both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for dueling in the hallway.”

“But he was going to hex them from behind!” Rose protested.

“It’s true,” James added. “I saw it all.”

“So did I,” Peter replied as he aimed a silent _rennervate_ at Karl. “And while I understand Mr. Jenkins’s culpability, you could have seriously hurt him.”

“How?” James demanded.

Peter cocked his eyebrow before hoisting a still dazed Karl to his feet and pointing at his head. “Although it may not seem like it, sometimes Karl actually _does_ have a brain in here and those bruise easily. Especially when they suddenly hit a stone floor.”

James looked rather sheepish after the seventh year finished his explanation. “Oh, right.”

“Now, Miss Weasley, I’ll be taking Karl here to our head of house to decide his detention. Can I trust you to do the same with Professor Longbottom?”

Rose nodded silently.

“Good. But know this, if you don’t, I’ll find out eventually and it’ll be worse for you.”

“What about the Slytherins?” Karl asked managing to scrounge up some indignation as he tried to get a hold of himself again. “They were dueling too.”

“Were they?” Peter asked. “I didn’t see it.” He looked to James and Rose expectantly.

“Karl just tried to attack them,” Rose answered. “It was completely unprovoked.”

It wasn’t a total lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Fortunately, it was enough for Peter to take another five points from Karl for lying before he left, dragging the fourth year behind him.

Al was still processing everything that had just happened and hadn’t even noticed that James and Rose were on the move. That was until Scorpius said, “Thanks for the assist Weasley. And for covering for us.”

“Don’t mention it,” Rose returned with a weak smile, one that faltered when she noticed Al looking at her. “Well, I best be off to see Professor Longbottom,” she said hurriedly before rushing off down the hall.

Al was silent at dinner that night, though everyone had heard about the altercation in the hall by now and everyone was talking about it. Al suspected James was the source of the not untrue rumors that Al had also bested Karl. As Al ate, he considered the situation with Rose. Perhaps now _was_ the time to try and fix things. She may not have apologized verbally, but coming to his defense was as good as any he figured. In hindsight, she had probably just been afraid that he would react poorly to any overtures on her part and he had to admit that such fears would not have been unfounded.

Scorpius was also on Al’s mind. For as big and messy as his own family could be, they still loved each other, deep down, even if they sometimes made mistakes along the way. Scorpius’s parents almost certainly loved him, but that was tainted by guilt and the legacy of the war. And then there was something else, something with Scorpius’s mother that made it worse. Thus, Al decided to write home before he went to bed that night and ask if Scorpius and his family could join them for Christmas. Maybe they could help bring some more happiness into their lives. Even if it was only Scorpius who came, that would be fine. After all, what were friends for?


	12. Chapter 12

“It’s a nice try Potter, but I don’t think it’ll work out,” Scorpius said, doing his best (but failing) to conceal his despondency as he watched the countryside roll by the window of their compartment, his head resting on his fist.

“Why not?” Al asked.

“You _really_ have to ask that question?” Scorpius asked, turning his incredulous expression on Al. “Our families weren’t exactly best mates back in school and they ended up being on opposite sides of a _war_ in case you’ve forgotten.”

“My dad said it would be alright,” Al pointed out.

“It’s not your _dad_ I’m worried about, it’s your uncle.”

“Which one?” Al had quite a few uncles.

“Ronald,” Scorpius replied. “He may not be an auror anymore but I’ve seen him before and if he’s anything like the papers from back in the day made him out to be, then he’s definitely to be avoided if your last name is Malfoy.”

“Uncle Ron won’t be a problem,” Al assured. The skeptical look Scorpius gave him forced him to add, “Much.” Then he quickly continued, “Besides, doesn’t your dad work with my Aunt Hermione?”

“My dad is an MW who got his seat because the Reformists wanted a token ‘reformed Death Eater’. Your aunt is Shacklebolt’s undersecretary. That hardly qualifies as ‘working together’,” Scorpius answered.

“Still, it’s something right?” When Scorpius didn’t look convinced, Al asked, “And what about that thing with Rose?”

For some reason, that one question snagged Scorpius’s attention in a way the others hadn’t because he instantly sat up straight and snapped his focus, which had drifted to the scenery again, back to Al. “What thing?” he asked.

“You know, the thing in that corridor where she petrified Karl Jenkins to protect us?”

“Oh, that. Honestly, Potter, I think she was more protecting _you_ than me.”

“Maybe,” Al conceded, though he wasn’t totally convinced. “But you said thank you,” Al continued.

“Of course I did,” Scorpius replied defensively. “I’m not going to be rude to your cousin.”

“But she didn’t tell you off.”

“So?” Scorpius asked, clearly unaware of the significance of Rose’s response to his expression of gratitude.

Al sighed. “So… Rose is generally a pretty fiery sort. If she doesn’t like you and you try to have a chat, she’ll let you know.”

“And?” Scorpius pressed.

“And… she didn’t tell you off so obviously she at least doesn’t dislike you anymore and that’s got to count for _something_ with Uncle Ron.”

Scorpius sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just drop it Al,” he said. “You can wish all you like, it won’t work out. Even if your family turns out to be okay with it, my father wouldn’t dare risk it.”

Al slumped. Although he didn’t really agree with Scorpius’s assessment, he didn’t feel like trying to continue what he knew was a hopeless argument. “Whatever,” he said, defeated.

“Speaking of your cousin though, have _you_ talked to her about the other day, and all that… other baggage of yours?”

“No,” Al admitted.

“When were you planning on doing that?”

Al sighed. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any,” he said as he stood up to go look for Rose.

“Good luck Al,” Scorpius called as the compartment door slid shut behind him.

Rose had acquired a group of friends at the beginning of the year and Al had yet to see them separated. Al was fairly certain that these “friends” of hers had something to do with her reluctance to stand up for him and what he saw in the compartment only served to solidify that belief. His cousin’s friends were nowhere to be seen. In their place was Al’s brother whose “friends” were also conspicuously absent. Although Al knew that it was James who’d cut ties with his old gang, he strongly suspected that in his cousin’s case, it was the friends who’d abandoned her. Likely over the incident with Karl Jenkins the other day.

Tentatively, Al unlatched the door and slid it open. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

Al saw that, almost instinctively, Rose averted her eyes quickly. “Come on in,” James said with a soft smile. “I’ve actually gotta go for a bit but I’ll be back.”

“Go where?” Rose asked.

“Just to the loo,” James replied.

Rose’s expression and tone of alarm almost made Al feel guilty. She was afraid of what he’d do, how he’d react. Al knew that his explosion on Halloween had done that, but at the same time he still believed he was justified. Each day that passed without any change from his cousin had only seemed to make him feel more justified… and bitter.

But now, things were different. He knew why Rose hadn’t approached him to apologize. But just because he understood her behavior, didn’t mean he excused it. This talk would be as much about where Rose had gone wrong as it would be about healing their friendship.

“So,” Al said, sitting down as the glass door shut behind his brother.

“So…” Rose echoed.

Al instinctively took a breath and took a moment to clear his head, something that had become a habit since his visit to Professor Strange with Scorpius. Before, his mind would have spun in circles contemplating everything that needed to be said between them and how best to do it and how Rose might react. All these thoughts would have only served to wind Al’s stem tighter and tighter to the point of not being able to accomplish anything. Now though, he knew what to do and he wouldn’t worry about all the “what ifs”.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said catching Rose by surprise. “For the other day, with Karl. And for not ratting me out to Peter or any of the professors for ‘dueling’ in the hall.”

“Um… You’re welcome? I suppose,” Rose replied tentatively. “So, you’re not still mad at me?”

“For watching mine and Scorp’s backs? Of course not. I _couldn’t_ be mad over that. You saved our skins. But for everything _before_ that…”

“Oh…” Rose’s face fell.

“I get now why you sided with your friends instead of me… Well, I got it on Halloween too, but I understand it better now. Just like I understand why you didn’t try and make up for it until the other day. You were afraid.”

“I wanted to Al, I _really_ wanted to it’s just…”

“Just?”

Rose swallowed. “I thought you’d hold a grudge. I thought my friends would abandon me…” Rose chuckled mirthlessly. “Turns out I was right about _that_ bit.”

“You were afraid that it’d be painful,” Al supplied.

“And it is… was. It’s not so bad now that it’s over. But wouldn’t _you_ be afraid too?”

Al paused and thought over his cousin’s question. “Honestly? Yes. But I think I would have done it anyway.”

“Really?” Rose asked skeptically. “Can you _honestly_ say you’d be that brave?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of? I don’t think there’s a third option here Al. you’re either brave or you’re not.”

“Well, maybe it’s my Slytherin side or maybe I’ve just been spending too much time with Scorpius and Andrew. But the way I see it is if your friends are going to abandon you for doing the right thing, then they can’t really be your friends, can they.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“And if you made an earnest apology, one that’s not just words but action, you actually _change_ your behavior, but whoever you’re apologizing to still holds it over you…”

“Then they’re not worth it,” Rose finished.

“Exactly,” Al replied. “So, when you think of it like that, it’s a lot less scary and you need to be a lot less brave to do it.”

“But it’s different with family thought isn’t it?” Rose asked.

“Is it though?” Al asked, genuinely unsure of the answer. “I don’t know.”

“Look at me,” Rose said. “A Gryffindor being lectured on courage by a Slytherin.”

Al and Rose shared a nervous laugh at that remark.

“Hey,” Al said in mock offense. “Slytherins can be courageous too. We’re just smarter about it.” They shared another, less nervous laugh at that.

Then Rose asked, “So, do you forgive me?”

“Yeah,” Al replied with a reassuring smile.

James took that moment to return from his obviously _not_ bathroom trip and the three of them sat chatting for some time after. Al had his own apology to make to James for how he acted when James had tried to stick up for him. When they got closer to King’s Cross, Al returned to the compartment he was sharing with Scorpius to collect his things.

Before they left for the platform, Al once again extended his invitation to Scorpius. Although his friend once again dismissed it as being impossible, Al still held out hope that things would change.


	13. Chapter 13

Christmas at the Burrow was always chaos but that was to be expected when you had five uncles, four aunts, and eight cousins and your dad’s godson who also happened to be a metamorphmagus all under the same roof with your parents, siblings, and grandparents. Al supposed it would be less chaotic if there was more space for everyone to spread out a little. He’d heard from Henry that the Bentleys usually spent Christmas at their great grandfather’s mansion in Austria with all their far-flung relations from around the globe and Al wondered, not for the first time, why they didn’t just do Christmas at the larger Grimmauld Place. The only answer he’d ever gotten was that it had too many bad memories and that Al would understand some day.

So, Al’s mother, grandmother, and Aunt Fleur bickered in the kitchen while Uncles George and Ron ribbed Uncle Percy with a freshly caffeinated Hugo chasing Lily and Lucy around their legs and Uncle Bill laughing quietly to himself at the scene from the couch. Al, meanwhile, remained in the least chaotic part of the house where he and James were engaged in a rather intense game of wizard chess that was being watched just as intensely by Rose, Dom, and Luis.

Al gazed at the board and considered his next move very carefully. Each set of pieces stared the other down with hard determination, both sides trusting their commanders to lead them to victory. Al smiled mischievously as he concocted his plan. Just as he was about to order the move, however, the moment, and his thoughts, were interrupted by the arrival of his cousins Fred and Roxanne.

“Have you seen Victoire?” Roxy asked.

“Grandma kicked Aunt Fleur out of the kitchen and she’s looking for her,” Fred added.

“She’s probably snogging Teddy in Grandpa’s muggle shed,” James replied without looking up from the board.

As soon as they’d run off, Uncle Charlie admonished James to not rat out his cousin like that. “One of these days James, you’re going to be in the same position as they’re in and you won’t appreciate being intruded upon like that.” James, of course, just rolled his eyes.

Before he could be interrupted again, Al made his move which elicited a knowing “ah” from Dom and Louis and a disgruntled grumble from James. As James considered his next move, their game, along with all the other activity in the house, was interrupted once more by the sound of Grandpa Weasley’s newly installed muggle doorbell.

When it had first been installed, there had been quite a debate about it. Al’s mother had relayed to him through their owls that no one had really seen the point in it since everyone Grandma and Grandad Weasley were likely to have over as guests, which was really just family and some old friends from the Order, wouldn’t bother with the bell and would just apparate straight in. There was no understanding in their circle that to wait at the door would be the polite and preferred course of action. Thus, it was only natural that everyone was curious as to who could be at the door just as it was equally natural for everyone to begin to congregate at the entrance to satisfy their curiosity. Well, everyone except Teddy and Victoire who Al noticed were conspicuously absent. James had apparently also noticed because Al heard him mutter something about snogging in the muggle shed.

“Now who could that be?” Grandma Weasley asked.

“Let’s find out,” Al’s dad reached for the knob and turned before pulling the front door open to reveal none other than the Malfoys.

As everyone else suddenly grew silent and apprehensive, Al couldn’t contain his excitement. “Scorpius!”

“So you decided to come after all.” Though Al couldn’t see his father’s face, his tone was warm and welcoming which contrasted greatly with everyone else’s apprehensive demeanors. “Come on in.”

“Erm, yes,” Draco replied awkwardly as he led his family into the house. “And thank you. Astoria and I decided it might do us and Scorpius some good to get out of the Manor this Christmas.” The Malfoy patriarch took his wife’s coat and hung it up along with his own and his son’s. Everyone continued to stand around awkwardly until Draco once again broke the silence. “So, uh… Happy Christmas everyone.”

There were murmured replies of “Happy Christmas” all around except for Al and his dad who were far more enthusiastic. “I’ll set three more places,” Grandma Weasley said at last as everyone started to break apart to return to their previous activities.

“I can help in the kitchen Mrs. Weasley,” Scorpius’s mother offered.

“That’s alright dear. Ginny and I have it under control.” Al thought his grandmother sounded _too_ polite, like she was dropping a hint that Astoria Malfoy was even less welcome in her kitchen than Aunt Fleur.

Scorpius’s mother, however, clearly didn’t take the hint. “I insist,” she said. “If I’m going to eat at your table, the least I can do is help you prepare the food.”

Al was sure his grandmother was continuing to insist on her way but he couldn’t hear her anymore as she drifted out of the entryway with everyone else, leaving Al, James, Scorpius, and Rose alone. In any case, Al was less interested in the general discomfort of the rest of his family and more interested in spending time with his friend. “I’m glad you came,” Al said, turning to Scorpius. “You want to play a game of chess? James and I are currently at it but you can play the winner.”

“I thought Louis was playing the winner,” James pointed out.

“I don’t care who’s playing the winner,” Scorpius interrupted somewhat harshly. “Do you really think my father brought us here just to spend Christmas with your family?”

The question was obviously rhetorical so instead of answering what he really thought Al asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“And you call yourself a Slytherin,” Scorpius said derisively. “Did anyone else notice that my father didn’t follow the rest of your enormous brood?”

“Hey!” James was clearly offended by Scorpius’s pejorative use of the term “brood” to refer to their family but Scorpius ignored the outburst and pressed on.

“Did you also notice who he left with?” Scorpius asked.

“Mum, dad, and Uncle Harry,” Rose answered, her expression changing to one of epiphany.

“Three thirds of the golden trio and my dad… They’re plotting something,” Scorpius finished.

“No,” James said, denying the accusation. “They wouldn’t be plotting with _your_ father. Nothing against you Scorpius, I know you’re Al’s friend and that has to count for something but our parents were like mortal enemies back in school. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione wouldn’t team up with your dad and I _know_ our dad wouldn’t.”

“He might,” Al contradicted. “If he thought something good would come of it.” That’s when Al realized something else. “He might even have used my request to invite Scorpius over as an excuse for them to meet in private without getting it plastered all over the Prophet. He could always say I just wanted my friend’s family to join us and that would be the end of it.”

“But that’s so Slytherin,” James protested, earning a sharp glare from Al.

“You know, dad was almost a Slytherin?” Al replied.

“What? No he wasn’t,” James argued.

“Definitely was, he told me himself and the hat confirmed it.”

“While this family history is all very fascinating,” Scorpius interjected, “I for one, am more interested in what our parents are up to.”

“There _is_ only one way to find out if they really _are_ plotting,” Rose pointed out.

“We need to listen in on them,” Al finished.

James sighed. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ll grab the cloak.”

“I doubt that will work,” Scorpius said a moment later. “After all, your dad’s in on the plot. If they want to stop eavesdropping, they’re going to find a way to guard against that.”

“A muffliato would do it,” Rose offered.

“We need something else,” Scorpius said.

“Like what?” James challenged. “If they really are up to something they want kept secret, then they’ll have the room warded to the nines which makes us spying on them pointless.”

“The fly on the wall!” Rose suddenly shouted excitedly.

“Huh?” Needless to say, Al was confused, as were the other two boys.

“It’s something Dad and Uncle George have been working on for the shop,” Rose explained. “It’s a kind of surveillance device that can see and hear through just about every obfuscation charm in existence. They were going to show Uncle Harry a prototype of it today to see if the aurors could use it in their investigations. And the best part…” Rose grinned mischievously. “It’s virtually undetectable.”

“Is it invisible?” Scorpius asked curiously.

“Nope, even better. It’s _inconspicuous_. That’s because it looks like a _fly_.”

It didn’t take long for them to find the Fly on the Wall prototype. It consisted of two pieces. There was the fly portion which not only looked like a fly but actually _moved_ like a fly, provided you could steer it properly. The second portion was a large crystal ball, the base of which had the steering controls. The sphere displayed everything the fly saw although the image was rather distorted so it took some getting used to. Before long though, the fly portion was resting on the wall of the room of plotting and the four of them could see and hear everything.

“We can’t delay anymore,” the comically warped image of Draco said to the other three. “The attacks aren’t just catching witches and wizards in the crossfire anymore. Some of these muggle terrorists have actually found their way into _our_ world. Yesterday’s attack proves that we aren’t safe anymore, not if we keep doing things the old way.”

“Attack?” Al asked, confused as to what his friend’s dad was talking about.

“Shush,” Rose scolded before returning to her attention to the crystal ball.

“Draco’s right, Hermione,” Harry agreed. “And it’s not just the attacks. You _know_ how muggle technology is these days. All it takes is one stray shot with a camera phone and we have to do damage control on the double. Obliviators have to be sent _all over the world_ , we need to scrub the image from the internet.”

“I get it Harry, it’s expensive and difficult—”

“And getting more so all the time Hermione,” Harry interrupted. “Our protections aren’t working like they used to and we _have_ to get ahead of this. If we don’t then conflicts will only escalate and yesterday’s attack will become two, then ten…”

“Can’t we just create more protections, put more security between us and the muggles?” Ron asked.

“Why is Weasley here again?” Draco asked in annoyance. “It’s not like he’s an auror anymore. He’s completely useless to us now.”

“I’m here because you’re trying to draw my _wife_ and my _best mate_ into a coup against Minister Shacklebolt,” Ron shot back.

Al, James, Rose, and Scorpius gasped at the revelation. “A coup?” James asked disbelievingly. Rose, once again, shushed them.

“I’d hardly call convincing Shacklebolt to retire a coup, Weasley,” Draco sneered.

“And who’d replace him? You?” Ron challenged.

Draco scoffed. “Don’t be silly. I may have gotten a seat in the Wizengamot but I’ll hardly win any popularity contests given my history. No, ideally Granger should succeed Shacklebolt.”

Hermione shook her head. “I can see Draco doing this but _you_ Harry? Since when did you become a politician?”

“This isn’t about politics Hermione. It’s about the future of Wizarding Britain. If we don’t head this off, we could get another Tom Riddle, or worse. Another Grindelwald.”

“Why are you so intent on removing Shackelebolt anyway?” Ron asked. “And why not just issue a vote of no confidence? Why does it all have to be so… underhanded?”

“Kingsley’s a god man and he was a good auror,” Harry agreed. “He was even a good minister… for the post war period. Things have changed Ron and he’s not prepared to deal with the new challenges the muggles are giving us.”

“Shacklebolt’s too conservative,” Draco cut in. “His solution to everything the muggles have invented in the past twenty years is to just do more of the same. More enforcers, more obliviators, more protection charms. But we can’t keep up. He’s too old and set in his ways. As for the vote of no confidence? That’s easier said than done. A lot of the Wizengamot is still made up of the old guard who are just as conservative as Shacklebolt. Enough of them supported the Reform agenda that progress could be made after the war but they’ll only support a Reform Party led by Granger if they perceive her takeover as more of a passing of the torch and less as a radical shift in the party agenda.”

“Why me?” Hermione asked, taking the adults by surprise.

“Who else?” Draco asked rhetorically. “Most of the other options are all old coots who, at best, won’t change a thing from Shacklebolt’s administration and at worst will try to undo everything the Reform Party has worked for.”

“No fair trials, no habeas corpus,” Harry added.

“That only leaves three other reasonable options,” Draco continued. “You, me, and Digitulus. _I’m_ out of the question for obvious reasons and _nobody_ likes Digitulus, at least not yet.”

“You mean Lord Littlefinger?” Ron asked.

“The ‘old coots’ on the Wizengamot call him Lord Middlefinger.” Hermione said derisively. “So,” she continued, “by process of elimination, you’ve decided on me.”

“It’s not just that,” Harry said. “Hermione, you have the will to do the right thing and the brains to do it _right_.”

“What about Neville? Or Fletchley?” Ron asked. “They’re both MWs.”

Draco scoffed. “Fletchley’s too caught up in his muggle extracurriculars in the RAF and Longbottom _definitely_ won’t do it. It took me _months_ to convince him to take his seat on the Wizengamot and even now he’s a reluctant member. He spends more time at Hogwarts.”

The scene in the crystal ball was silent and motionless for so long after Draco had finished that Al became worried that something had gone wrong. Then his Aunt finally broke the silence.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“Hermione—” Ron made to protest but she held up a hand.

“They’re right Ron, this can’t wait.”

“I still don’t like it,” Al’s uncle grumbled as he leaned back in his chair in resignation.

“You understand, of course, that _no one_ else can know about this. The Prophet would have a field day and everything will be lost,” Draco concluded.

It was only then that Al realized his uncle was looking straight at them through the crystal ball. “I think it may be a bit late for that Malfoy,” he said.

“Troll bogeys,” Al cursed.

“Language!” Rose scolded.

Al didn’t care though. Instead he hurriedly said, “Quick, put it all away and bring the fly back.”

“What? Why?” James asked.

“Because we’ve been spotted!” Al pointed their attention back to the crystal ball where the four adults were now closing in on the fly.

James swore that time and tried his best to maneuver the fly out of the room but piloting a magical fly by remote is nothing like flying a broom. Fortunately, the fly made it back and they were able to pack everything away and return to the chess board in the living room before they were well and caught. The four of them hurriedly reset the pieces, which had begun to wander off in boredom after having been left for so long, and started another game. They continued to play, doing their best to appear as innocent as possible as their parents came down from their secret meeting, apparently not having discovered the use of the Fly on the Wall.

“It could have just been an ordinary fly Ron,” Al heard his aunt say.

“I suppose.” Al thought his uncle didn’t sound convinced though. “But at this time of year?”

“It _is_ unusual,” Draco said suspiciously.

“But not unheard of,” Hermione pointed out.

Al’s dad chose that moment to speak to them. “So, how’s the game been going?” he asked. “Still at it?”

“Yeah,” Al replied when James started looking like he was going to choke. “James has really upped his game,” Al lied before adding as icing on the cake, “Who knew that a Gryffindor could be so cunning.”

Al’s dad laughed at that while James released a cry of indignation. “Don’t let your Uncle Ron hear you say that,” he warned. “He’ll take it as a challenge.”

It was then that Grandma Weasley called everyone out to eat and the whole family plus the Malfoys filed out of the house and into the extendable tent where the long table was leaden with the Christmas meal. Once everyone was seated, Grandad Weasley said a few words before everyone dug in.

At first, everyone ate silently but before long the silence had been broken by polite conversation about this and that. How things were in the DMLE, predictions for the next Wizengamot election, how Teddy was doing on his healer’s studies. Soon, the polite conversation had become the familiarly raucous and cheerful banter that normally characterized their family except that there were three new voices adding to the chorus. Al decided that he was quite happy with this Christmas and it appeared Scorpius and his family shared that sentiment. The tension from before had miraculously dissipated.

It was probably the best Christmas they’d had in a long time, Al realized. And for the rest of the day, well after the meal was concluded, Al, Rose, James, and Scorpius forgot about what they’d spied on earlier that day. It wasn’t until late at night, as Al tried to fall asleep after the day’s excitement, that the memory returned to him. Thus, despite how well the day had gone on the whole, Al did not sleep well that night.


	14. Chapter 14

Al wasn’t really happy to be returning to Hogwarts at the end of their break and neither were James, Rose, and Scorpius. This was largely because they all knew what awaited them upon their return. But at least they had each other now. The restored unity of the Weasley cousins counted for something and would help with most of the negativity. The four of them had also decided to keep what they’d discovered about their parents’ plot a secret between them. In truth, Al didn’t see what the big deal was. Their goal seemed reasonable enough. It was Scorpius who’d had to explain things to him, once again wondering aloud how Al had managed to be made a Slytherin.

“You can be really thick sometimes Al,” he said in their compartment on the return to Hogwarts. “It doesn’t matter whether their goal is reasonable or not. The Prophet will find some way to twist it just because they’re all _very_ public figures and my dad, Merlin, my whole family has a reputation. As we speak, Skeeter’s probably cooking something up just because we joined your family for Christmas. If they get more dirt than that then their goal goes out the yard like a garden gnome.”

Over the break, while Scorpius had neglected his chi training due to his belief that he didn’t need it, Al did not. Thus, when classes resumed, his performance in charms, transfiguration, and defense had significantly improved. Al was so pleased with his progress that when he stumbled upon the section of the yellow book that discussed the martial arts based on the theories of magical chi, he asked Professor Strange if he could teach him any of them since their previous training had come to an end.

“I suppose I could,” the professor had replied thoughtfully. “I only know one of them though and I didn’t remain in Asia long enough to master it so I can only take you so far.”

Al didn’t care about that though and so he resumed his regular sessions with Professor Strange.

After a while, he began to notice the professor was behaving oddly. Or perhaps more accurately, more oddly than usual. Where before Strange was focused and intent, he now seemed distracted. The intense Ravenclaw-worthy excitement he got from teaching and learning seemed to have been replaced with stoicism and sometimes something that Al thought bordered on melancholy. At first, Al simply dismissed what he’d been observing, content with his lessons, steadily improving grades, and friendship with Scorpius, Rose, and of course, his fellow Slytherins. It was only when the professor cancelled one of their sessions that Al realized something really strange was going on. Professor Strange had never cancelled any of his lessons, whether they were the official ones or his private ones with Al. Even if he was sick, which was rare to begin with, he’d find a way to teach without spreading the contagion.

So, Al sat down at the Gryffindor table with Rose and James, dragging Scorpius along with him from Ravenclaw at lunch the following day. “Have any of you noticed something strange going on with Professor Strange lately?” he asked.

“You mean other than his name?” Rose asked as she set down that day’s edition of the . Al noticed the headline. There’d been another anti-wizard attack, the third since Christmas. The DMLE had been seeking approval to undertake less orthodox countermeasures, including creating a special investigative team to root out the terrorists but so far, their efforts had been blocked. Al recalled the conversation they’d spied on over Christmas and he hoped to Merlin that things would change soon.

Al was brought back out of his musings by his friend’s voice. “Har har Weasley,” Scorpius said sarcastically.

“Sorry,” Rose apologized, blushing. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well?” Al pressed. “Have you?”

“A little bit,” Rose admitted. “He does seem more down than usual, especially since the January 2nd attack, but I can’t say that I’ve been paying a whole lot of attention.”

Al looked over at Scorpius who shrugged noncommittally, essentially giving the same answer as his cousin. “If I had to speculate, I’d say that the attack hit him rather personally and he’s probably grieving.”

James, however, seemed to have other thoughts. “Maybe,” he said, sounding uncertain.

“What is it?” Al asked.

“It’s just that he keeps disappearing from the Marauder’s Map,” James replied.

“The what?” Scorpius asked.

“It’s an heirloom,” Rose explained. “Sort of. It was created by James’s grandad and his friends when they were at Hogwarts, somehow wound up in the hands of my Uncles Fred and George who then gave it to James’s dad from whom James stole the map last year.”

“I did not steal it,” James protested.

“Then what do you call taking something without permission from the owner?” Rose challenged.

“Temporary misappropriation,” James replied without missing a beat, earning him eye rolls all around.

“It’s not temporary if you never give it back James,” Rose replied. James ignored her.

“And what does this pseudo-heirloom do?” Scorpius asked.

“It shows every room, corridor, and secret passage in Hogwarts as well as every person’s location in real time,” Al answered.

“Except the Room of Requirement,” Rose pointed out.

“The Room of Requirement was burnt to a crisp by fiendfyre almost twenty years ago and it hasn’t worked since,” James returned. “Besides, he’s not been vanishing anywhere _near_ Barnabas the Barmy.”

“Where’s he been vanishing?” Rose asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Different places every time,” James replied.

“And you think he’s up to something?” Scorpius asked.

“The map might just be broken,” Al suggested. “I mean, it’s like forty-five years old and the castle got kinda blown up too…”

“It works just fine,” James insisted.

“So, the advanced magical theory professor and former unspeakable keeps disappearing in odd places around the castle and has been a bit distant lately,” Scorpius summed up sarcastically. “Maybe he’s just got some new research project. It doesn’t _have_ to be anything sinister.”

“Says the guy who suspected our parents of plotting because they snuck off together at Christmas,” James said pointedly.

“I never said I _didn’t_ suspect anything,” Scorpius replied. “Just that his behavior could have a perfectly innocent explanation.”

“But you don’t think it does,” Rose observed.

“Well,” James cut in before Scorpius could give another vague non-answer. “There’s only one way to find out.”

That was how Al found himself sneaking around the castle in the dead of night, crammed under James’s invisibility cloak with Scorpius and James. Rose had begged off due to some transfiguration homework. Al suspected that she just had cold feet about their spying, probably due to how their last eavesdropping session almost turned out.

They’d met by the secret passage of the one-eyed witch before James draped the cloak over them and whipped out the Marauder’s Map. When James tapped it with his wand and whispered the passphrase, ink bloomed across the pages. Despite his friend’s attempts to conceal it behind a façade of superior indifference, Al could tell that Scorpius was awed by what he saw.

“Pretty cool huh?” Al said.

Scorpius shrugged noncommittally but Al could see the gears in his head turning as to how to create his own.

“I found him,” James said, interrupting them both. “He’s still in his office. If we hurry, we can catch him before he leaves and then tail him.”

The three did just that but once Professor Strange had left his office, they found it hard to keep up. The long-legged professor took similarly long strides as he moved through the hall and they were unbelievably rapid. If it had been just one of them under the cloak, they might not have had a problem, but James’s Weasley genes had kicked in over the summer making him tall enough that he had to bend over so as not to expose their feet under the cloak. There was also the added awkwardness of having to try moving in unison. In the end, they lost the professor and when James tried to find him again on the map, he was nowhere to be found.

They tried again and again, every night for the rest of the week to no avail. It was only when they’d nearly been caught by Filch’s newest kneezle, Mrs. Norris III, that they decided to try a different approach. Instead of the three of them following Strange at night, they’d rotate. “Or, you could just drop it,” Rose suggested. “It’s not our business anyway and I’ve noticed your grades are slipping James.”

“But what if he’s up to something bad?” James asked.

Rose rolled her eyes. “James, it’s the twenty-first century, it’s not like there’s a Voldemort hiding around every corner like back in our parents’ day.”

“What, no scolding for me?” Scorpius asked teasingly.

Rose shook her head. “No need, without James’s cloak and map you and Al can’t do anything so if James stops, you stop.”

But James didn’t stop and so they continued trying to follow the professor. Sure, they managed to keep closer now that they were only trying to hide one person at a time under the cloak, but they all still managed to just miss him. Until the night Al figured it out. He’d been trailing the professor like he was supposed to, but he’d kept the map out while he’d done so. As usual, Al lost him, but he noticed something else on the map. For just a moment, before the professor had vanished, there had been two of him. The one that Al had been following, and one on the other end of the castle.

For a moment, Al was perplexed as to how he could be in two places at once but when he noticed that the second Professor Strange remained on the map, he recalled one of his dad’s stories from his Hogwarts days. Al decided to confirm his hunch and quickly moved to intercept the professor. Once he had, he silently followed Strange back to his office, taking care to slip through before the door closed on him. Al saw the professor remove a chain from around his neck and on the end of the chain, was a tiny hourglass encased in a silver frame with a tiny knob on the side. Although it appeared different from the one his Aunt Hermione had supposedly used, Al immediately recognized the device as a time-turner. And time-turners were illegal.


	15. Chapter 15

Al was of two minds about the Professor Strange situation when he returned to his dorm that night. On the one hand, he felt like telling James, Rose, and Scorpius of his discovery right away. On the other hand, he felt like doing so would be betraying someone who’d helped him so much. Al rationalized that there had to be a good reason that the professor was looking into magic that had been forbidden for over two decades. Al’s sleep was light and fitful that night as his thoughts chased each other around his dreams. By the time he’d awakened, he’d come to a decision. He wasn’t going to tell his friends, at least not yet. First, he wanted to confront his teacher, and he would have the perfect opportunity tonight when he went in for his private lessons.

That evening, Al stood silently outside the classroom they were going to be using for the private lessons. His path had seemed so clear that morning but now, his nerves were starting to get the better of him. Before his courage could falter any further, Al pushed the door open and marched in to confront his teacher. “I know about the time turner,” he declared.

As usual, Professor Strange’s expression was inscrutable. “I see,” he replied evenly as he absently stowed his wand away and steepled his long, thin fingers. “Should I expect the aurors soon?”

Al’s unease only grew at the casual way the professor asked the question, as if he had nothing to worry about. As it happened, he didn’t. “The authorities don’t know,” Al replied nervously.

“Very well, what about my colleagues? Will the headmistress be arriving to sack me?”

Al shook his head.

“Hmm. Perhaps you elected to do as your father did and keep this between you and your friends. Are they waiting around the corner to hex me into unconsciousness so you can all claim the same glory of adventure your forebears did?”

Al thought the last one sounded almost like a challenge but at the same time, he thought he detected something else. Was it certainty? “I haven’t told anyone,” he replied. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Not quite,” Strange replied. “But I suspected. When you and Mr. Malfoy came to me for assistance, I sensed something in you.”

“Sensed what?” Al asked.

Instead of answering him directly, the professor continued on his own. “When you were sorted into Slytherin, I suspected that the reason you didn’t join the rest of your family in Gryffindor had to do with your desire to stand apart from them. Your thirst for greatness in your own right rather than as just another part of your family’s legacy. When I first met you and Mr. Malfoy my suspicions were confirmed. But I soon realized that there was even more to you.

“You, Mr. Potter, are an extremely powerful wizard in your own right, once you’ve unblocked the flow of your magic. Yet you find yourself in a position with few actual friends and the majority of the school against you just because of your house. They don’t particularly care for _who_ you are _or_ your achievements. They just see green and silver. Even your own housemates don’t see much past your famous surname. They don’t see Albus Severus Potter, they see your father’s shadow. All this has got to be rather bothersome for an ambitious Slytherin such as yourself.

“The reason you haven’t turned me in to anyone is that you still thirst for that greatness, now more than ever. Especially given that the results of our lessons have given you a taste of how it feels to _win_ for a change. You haven’t turned me in because, even though you may not consciously realize it, you are trying to decide if you win more by turning me in or by letting me continue.”

“That’s not true,” Al protested weakly, though a part of him couldn’t help but tremble at the thought that Professor Strange was right.

“Given your upbringing among ‘honorable Gryffindors’ I’m not surprised that you’re in denial,” Strange replied calmly. “So, let me help clear things up for you. I’m going to give you a test. I’m going to tell you _why_ I’m making the time turner, and I’m going to make you an offer. How you decide will either prove that I’m right about your ambition, or that the hat made a mistake in putting you in Slytherin.”

Al nervously swallowed with difficulty. He suddenly found his mouth going dry and his palms sweating. In hindsight, he should have prepared himself more for his confrontation with the professor. He’d been expecting some back and forth that would have ultimately ended with him turning Strange in. Instead it seemed the tables had been turned on him and he was about to discover if he really was just a no-good snake, driven by nothing but his ambition.

“The time-turner you saw is of my own design and merely a piece of a larger mechanism I have been developing.”

“What mechanism?” Al asked.

“A perfect time-turner,” Strange replied. “You see, time-turners were developed by the Department of Mysteries in the fifties after two unspeakables returned from studying what they called in Germany. I won’t bore you with the details of their research at the moment, we can discuss that later. But I’m sure you are aware of some of the limitations of time-turners.”

Before Al could stop himself, he found himself answering the professor’s implicit question. “They can’t go back more than six hours and they only allow pre…” Al struggled to remember the exact term.

“Pre-destination paradoxes,” Strange finished for him. “Yes. They’re also one way. If you go back two hours, you have to live those two hours over again. You can’t go back forward. But the research from the Winden Rift indicated that the first and last of these limitations wasn’t a fact of nature but a problem of design. The Winden Rift allowed travel in both directions and ran on cycles of thirty-three _years_ rather than one hour. Additionally, the question of pre-destination paradoxes being a fact of nature was never settled.”

“So, this ‘perfect’ time-turner is supposed to do what?” Al asked. “Go back further than six hours, let you move forward or backward, and change history?”

“That’s the goal,” Strange answered.

“But why?” Al asked. “Why make it at all?”

“I’m not sure if you read the news Mr. Potter, but the wizarding world is not in the best of shapes at the moment. We’ve buried our heads in the sand for too long while the muggles have continued to advance technologically. Such advances are rendering many of our protections useless. The barriers that divide our worlds are essentially—”

“Breaking down,” Al cut in. “I know.”

Professor Strange nodded approvingly. “Then you know that the world is once again becoming unsafe for our kind.”

Al nodded. “But my Aunt Hermione’s working to fix that,” Al pointed out recalling back to the conversation they’d spied on over Christmas. “She and Mr. Malfoy are gathering support to change things, so things happen on our terms.”

Strange cocked an eyebrow. Clearly this was news to him and truthfully, Al hadn’t expected any different. It was supposed to be a secret after all. The only reason he’d told the professor was in the hopes of dissuading him from whatever plan he had in mind for the perfect time-turner. Unfortunately, Al soon found those hopes dashed. “If what you say is true, while their efforts are indeed commendable, I’m afraid they’ll be too little, too late. At this point in our history, when the muggles have had weapons that could wipe out this entire school in the blink of an eye for nearly three-quarters of a century, any attempt at reunification is much too risky and would likely result in either our extermination or our exploitation.”

“So, your answer is to go back and change history.”

“Yes.”

“But that could have all sorts of bad consequences!” Al argued.

“Not if we do it right,” Strange insisted. “I’ve done the calculations and studied the history. If we intervene in Grindelwald’s War—”

“What?” Al couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You want to help Grindelwald?”

“I didn’t say that,” Strange replied impatiently. “Gellert Grindelwald may have been a flawed and complicated man but so was Albus Dumbledore and they _both_ wanted the greater good of humanity. Grindelwald’s only problem was that he needed better guidance.”

“So he could win his war you mean.” Al couldn’t contain his contempt. He’d thought Professor Strange was a good man.

“So that he wouldn’t _have to_ ,” Strange answered forcefully. “A different approach could have resulted in a fair and _peaceful_ reunification of our worlds, one that avoided the conflict and bloodshed of Grindelwald’s War and could have prevented the muggles’ second world war.” Professor Strange was starting to become impassioned. “Imagine how many lives would be saved, both wizard and muggle, if things would have gone right. Think of how many more will be saved by averting the looming conflict between us and the muggles.”

“Grindelwald wanted to enslave the muggles,” Al argued firmly only to find his certainty faltering as he watched his professor shake his head sadly. “Didn’t he?” Al added uncertainly.

“History is often written by the victors Mr. Potter. The truth of Grindelwald’s ideas has been suppressed and scrubbed from most of the ‘approved’ histories,” Strange replied. The professor drew out a slip of parchment and a self-inking quill. “If you want to know the truth, you should focus on primary sources. All of those will be in the restricted section.” Strange scribbled something on the parchment before offering it to Al.

Al cautiously accepted the parchment. Upon reading it, he saw that it was a permission slip for the restricted section of the library.

“Spend a week reading through them,” Strange said. “If you’re still not convinced, you’re welcome to turn me into the headmaster. Or even your father, if you’d prefer to expedite things. Otherwise, come back to me and we can save the world together. _That_ is my offer.”

Al hesitated a moment before defiantly declaring, “No, Professor. I’m turning you in now.” He then ran off before Strange could do anything else. Only, Al didn’t turn him in. Instead, he ran straight for the dungeons and the following morning, he found himself in the restricted section, searching for the history Professor Strange had insisted had been censored.

As Al poked through the various primary sources from the time of Grindelwald’s War and the time leading up to it, he discovered that he didn’t like what he had seen so far. It wasn’t so much that the reading material had been awful and abhorrent, quite the opposite in fact. Al had found that most, though not all, of the writings of Grindelwald and the witches and wizards who’d wound up following him actually made a lot of sense. And _that_ was what Al didn’t like. He’d taken Professor Strange’s restricted section pass with the expectation that he’d only find more proof that what the professor had planned was wrong. Instead, he’d found reasons to agree with him.

One wizard had written “The muggles, in their relentless march forward in technological advancement, will inevitably eclipse our own abilities if we do not advance with them. The statute of secrecy holds back our development by freezing our society in the seventeenth century and this achieves the opposite of its claimed purpose. There shall come a time when the muggles discover us once again and we shall be defenseless when they do, thus ensuring the extermination or exploitation of our kind unless we act now to avoid disaster.” Another witch argued that the statute unjustly prevented relationships with those “no-majes” who were “perfectly reasonable and good men.” Others argued about the positive side of reunification and how commerce and standards of living would grow astronomically. They even argued that the more politically unified magical world could help unify the non-magical world and achieve world peace.

True, Al also found the rather darker elements of Grindelwald’s organization. These witches and wizards argued for the enslavement of muggles to “prevent their arrogance from ending all life on earth,” and while Al disagreed with the method, he had to concede that the muggles had developed some rather dangerous and potentially world-ending weapons.

Soon it was Friday and Al still found himself conflicted, though he was leaning more toward joining with the professor. If they did it right, they could change Grindelwald’s mind and the minds of everyone else who wanted to enslave the muggles. They could rejoin the worlds and do it peacefully. If he did it right, Al could not only save the world, but he could make it exponentially better. It would be a feat even greater than the defeat of Voldemort.

It was with these thoughts chasing each other around his mind that Al found himself mindlessly paging through a potions textbook as he sat in the library studying with Rose, Scorpius, and Andrew. “You going to tell us what’s on your mind?” Scorpius asked pointedly without looking up from his own textbook and parchment.

“Huh?” Al replied dumbly.

“You’ve been flipping through your potions text since we sat down and the potion we’re supposed to be preparing for was ten pages ago,” Andrew replied by way of clarification.

Al glanced down at his text, truly seeing it for the first time since they’d sat down, and he realized that Andrew was right. “Oh. Just thinking,” he replied eventually as he flipped back to the potion they were supposed to study and tried to force himself to concentrate.

“About?” Rose pressed.

“Nothing,” Al answered. Scorpius seemed like he was going to throw out a witty comeback but before he opened his mouth Al spoke again. “Have you guys ever thought about how things would be different now, if history had gone differently?”

“You mean like alt history?” Andrew asked, looking up from his work for the first time. “Like what if the Nazis had won the war or if William the Conqueror had lost the Battle of Hastings?”

“Or if Grindelwald ended the Statute of Secrecy,” Al added, still staring off into space.

Al was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice the strange looks that earned him from his friends. “I imagine all the muggles in the world would be living under his boot, or the boot of whoever took over from him,” Scorpius replied sardonically.

“Probably Riddle,” Andrew added, nodding in agreement.

“No,” Al put in. “I mean, what if he did it, but without the war, without trying to subjugate the muggles?”

“Sounds like you’re asking Grindelwald to not be Grindelwald,” Scorpius replied.

“Maybe,” Al conceded. “But what if someone who knew better, someone from now, could go back in time and explain it to him? What if they could change his mind? Hypothetically speaking.”

Andrew finally looked up from his text and spoke directly to Al. “Even if it _were_ possible to go back that far in time _and_ change history, chances are Grindelwald wouldn’t change.”

“How do you know?” Al asked, not noticing how Scorpius’s expression had turned suspicious.

“Because Dumbledore already tried that,” Andrew answered easily. “I mean, they used to be best friends. Do you really think he wouldn’t have tried to win Grindelwald over, even after their ill-fated duel?”

“What if we got to him before then?” Al pressed, not wanting to let this go.

“Even then, there’s just too many other variables to consider,” Andrew replied. “Grindelwald may have led the war to end the statute but he there were plenty of people who followed him who agreed with the war and the idea of enslaving the muggles.”

“Where’s this coming from Al?” Rose asked suddenly. Al shifted his gaze from Andrew to his cousin’s concerned expression.

“Nowhere,” he said dismissively. “Just something that popped in my head,” he replied. Al glanced over and caught Scorpius’s suspicious expression. “You know, I don’t think I’m going to be much help tonight,” he said as he turned away from Scorpius’s narrowed grey eyes and began packing his things back up.

“But we need to be prepared for tomorrow!” Rose protested.

“I’ll be fine,” Al assured quickly.

“What about us?” Scorpius asked, though he didn’t sound like he was complaining to Al. The suspicion in his tone matched his expression.

“You’ve got Andrew,” Al replied as he picked up his bag and made his way out of the library, perhaps a bit too hastily.

It wasn’t long before Al heard hurried footsteps following after him, echoing off the stone corridor along with his own. He picked up his pace but halted when Scorpius called his name. “Potter!”

Al cringed. While Scorpius had recently taken to calling Al by his first name, he noted that the Malfoy scion still sometimes used his surname instead. It was usually when he was angry about something. This time Scorpius sounded particularly angry and Al could guess why. “Scorpius?” Al asked uncertainly.

When Scorpius reached him, Al decided that he wasn’t angry. No, he looked _livid_. “Your cousin may have been willing to let you go without answering where this all came from but I _know_.” Scorpius jabbed a finger at Al’s chest on the last word. “This is what Strange is up to, isn’t it?”

Al took a deep breath and steeled himself. “And what if it is?” he asked.

“If it is then that means you’ve known what he’s been up to. I don’t know for how long, but long enough,” Scorpius replied angrily. “And you haven’t told us, or anyone else for that matter which means you’re on _his_ side.”

Al shook his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Al said.

“Of course it is! He wants to use that big brain of his to create an illegal time-turner that’s somehow going to break all the rules of time-turners and then go and help Grindelwald win—”

“He’s not going to help him win,” Al interrupted.

“Oh, that’s right. He’s going to ‘change his mind’,” Scorpius retorted sarcastically. “So, what did he offer you?”

“What?”

“It had to have been pretty tempting for goody-two-shoes Potter to suddenly decide it’s okay to suddenly go _full_ Slytherin on us,” Scorpius replied.

Al resented the implication. “Slytherin doesn’t mean evil,” he bit out. “Though you would think so, wouldn’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I bet that’s why it took so long for the hat to sort you,” Al replied. “I saw you with it on your head. It looked like you were arguing with it. I bet it wanted to put you in Slytherin but you just had to distance yourself from all us ‘evil snakes’. Well guess what Malfoy, not every Slytherin is like your family. Some of us try to achieve greatness by doing _good_ things.”

“And _this_ is good?” Scorpius asked incredulously. “You want to literally _change_ history to help probably the evilest wizard in history and for what? So you can satisfy your ambition? So you can stand out from your family? Well you know what Potter? You’ll _definitely_ stand out.”

“It’s not like that Scorpius,” Al replied. “We’re trying to _fix_ things. It’s too late now to reintegrate with the muggles but if we go back and fix things then…”

“Merlin, you _really_ believe that don’t you?” Scorpius said disbelievingly.

“That’s because it’s true,” Al insisted before continuing more gently. “Look, Scorpius. You’re my best mate so I know you’ve got your own problems with your family. What your grandparents did, what your dad did. If we fix things in the past, that might never happen.” Then a thought occurred to Al. “If you help us, you could even change that legacy. The Malfoys have always been known for being kind of sinister and into dark magic, even before Riddle. If you help us, that can change. You’ll be known as one of the people who helped save the world,” Al said enthusiastically.

Al was so sure Scorpius would accept. After all, as much as the other boy tried to hide it, Al knew how much it hurt him to be judged for his last name rather than for himself. That’s why Al was so surprised when Scorpius shook his head and, despite his deflated appearance, defiantly answered, “No, Al.”

“Why not?” Al asked in confusion, feeling more than just a hint of betrayal.

“Because,” Scorpius said more forcefully this time. “There is all the difference in the world between _seeming_ good and actually _being_ good.” Scorpius didn’t say anything more but instead spun around and trudged off despondently.

Al was rooted in place for what felt like hours but had to have been mere moments. Was that what all this was about? Was he really just worried about seeming good rather than being good? Was he just as caught up in appearances and theater as everyone else in the school had been all year? Al decided that wasn’t the case, at least not entirely. But Strange’s plan was another matter. Was it really doing the right thing, trying to go back in time and manipulate history that way?

Al thought back to their conversation in the library, and to what he’d read about Grindelwald and his followers. Could he honestly say that he believed Grindelwald’s mind could be changed? Even if it could, could he say that Grindelwald’s followers would still follow him if he stopped wanting war and muggle enslavement?

It was these thoughts that led him to the gargoyle that guarded the base of the spiral stairs that led to the headmistress’s office. Even as uncertain as Al was about Professor Strange’s plan being right, after thinking about it, he _knew_ that his decision was the right one.


	16. Chapter 16

“What do you want Potter?” Scorpius growled under his breath when Al sat next to him at the Ravenclaw table. There was hardly anyone in the Great Hall for breakfast yet as it was fairly early but they kept their voices down anyway.

“I wanted to apologize,” Al replied. “I shouldn’t have said those things last night.”

“Which ones? The things you said about my family or the part where you tried to manipulate me into helping you?”

“Both,” Al replied solemnly.

“An apology’s only good if you back it up with actions,” Scorpius returned. “If you still plan on helping Strange then anything you say is meaningless.” Scorpius hesitated a moment before continuing and when he did, some of the anger and bitterness had gone out of his voice, replaced with pain. “I’ll also have to turn you in too, eventually,” he said. “You’re my friend, the _first_ friend I had here. Aside from the half-giant but adults don’t really count. But if I have to turn you in to stop this, I will.”

Al took a deep breath and sighed. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about…”

Scorpius turned a suspicious eye away from his breakfast toward Al. It took a moment but eventually a look of realization dawned on Scorpius’s face and he turned his full attention on Al. “You already did it, didn’t you?”

Al nodded. “My dad personally came to take him away last night. The unspeakables confiscated his research and the time turner and are looking for ways to safely destroy it.”

“What changed your mind?” Scorpius’s eyes narrowed in suspicion again. “Did you think that maybe you’d still get your fame and recognition anyway if you turned him in? Were you going to tell the world that you caught him all by yourself?”

Al flinched. Scorpius’s words stung but they were all the more painful because the thought _had_ crossed his mind. Before he’d confronted Strange, he’d considered turning him in for the glory of it, for lack of a better phrase. Strange had known too.

“No,” Al answered. “No one will know it was me who turned him in, except a few. Besides, it would be kind of awkward to explain why I didn’t turn him in sooner, given I’ve known what he was up to for about a week.” Al’s attempt at levity fell flat and Scorpius’s expression turned genuinely inquisitive.

“Then why?”

“Because of what _you_ said,” Al replied.

“What _I_ said?”

“I still think that it would have been better to try and reintegrate the worlds before now, maybe even back in Grindelwald’s day. Maybe the statute shouldn’t have even been established. But that’s all in the past. I don’t know if Professor Strange’s device would have ever worked like it was supposed to, but I know that what he wanted to do was wrong. Not because it was illegal, but because it was reckless. Going back to help Grindelwald could have easily changed history for the worse.” When Al finished, he turned to face his friend once more. Scorpius’s expression was thoughtful but otherwise, Al had no idea what the blond boy was thinking. “So, er, thanks,” Al said lamely. “I’ll just go back to the Slytherin table now.”

Al stood from the table but Scorpius’s hand on his wrist stopped him. “I forgive you,” Scorpius said softly when Al met his gaze. “But next time you get it in your head to do something that seems even _borderline_ evil Al, for Merlin’s sake, consult me first.”

Despite the obvious seriousness of his plea, Scorpius cracked a smile that Al couldn’t help but return. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” Al replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this. Please read and review and as for the Easter-eggs. I included one from the Netflix series “Dark” (Winden) as well as a couple from the “Anguis” series by Slide (Midnight Press, storming of Azkaban). It’s a really good HP fanfic series (available at HarryPotterFanficion.com) and if you haven’t read it I highly recommend it.  
> Until next time.  
> -Pandalien


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